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SUCH A GLORIOUS MORNING. ’’-Page 230. 





OUR HOMES, 


BY 



MARY DWINELL CHELLIS, 

»# ' 


AUTHOR OF “ FROM FATHER TO SON,” “ THE BREWERY AT TAYLORVILLE,” “ THE 
brewer’s FORTUNE,” “ ALL FOR MONEY,” “ TEN CENTS,” ” WEALTH 
AND WINE,” " OLD TIMES,” “ THE TEMPERANCE DOCTOR,” 

” AUNT DINAH’S PLEDGE,” “AT LION’S MOUTH,” " OUT 
OF THE FIRE,” ETC. 


New York: 

National Temperance Society and Publication House, 

No. 58 READE STREET. 

1881. 




TT 


P'Z-'i 




Copyright, 

J. N. STEARNS, Publishing Agent, 

1880. 


STEREOTYPED BY 

THE ORPHANS OF THE CHURCH CHARITY FOUNDATION, BROOKLYN, N. Y. 
PRINTED BY H. J. HEWITT, 27 ROSE ST., NEW YORK. 


CONTENTS 


, CHAP page 

I. — Elegant Economy 5 

II. — True Happiness 21 

III. — Thankful for a Crust 39 

IV. — The Grandfather’s Friend . . . . 57 

V. — Poor Madge 78 

VI. — A Change of Name 93 

VII.— Brown Beech 117 

VIII.— Wilton Arms 136 

IX.— Hand Work 153 

X. — After Marriage 170 

XI. — Extravagant 191 

XII.— The New Home 209 

XIII. — Glorious . 229 

XIV. — Cloaked and Cowled 246 

XV. — Respectable . 261 

XVI.— Sin of Sins 276 

XVII. Peace and Rest 298 

XVIII.— Help 317 

XIX. — In the World , 339 

XX. — Pre-eminent Work 359 

XXI. — Welcome Home 377 

XXII. — Little by Little 39S 

XXIII.— Gaining Ground 413 



OUR HOMES. 


I. 

ELEGANT ECONOMY. 

LEGANT economy!” exclaimed Car- 
rie Maxon, in a contemptuous tone. 
“ There can be no such thing as 
elegant economy. The phrase is absurd ; 
and yet here is a long newspaper article so 
entitled. Do you believe in it ?” 

“ Of course I believe in it,” replied Cornie 
Harriman, without raising her eyes from the 
work she had in hand. “ The most elegant 
woman I ever saw is the most economical, 
and the most delightfully pleasant room it 
was ever my privilege to enter is furnished 
with the strictest regard to economy.” 



6 


Ouf Homes. 


Then I suppose it contains only chairs 
and a table ; and, if a living-room, a bit of 
a stove, with saucepan, kettle, and tea- 
pot.” 

‘‘ It is a living-room, thoroughly comforta- 
ble in all its appointments ; so comfortable 
that I envy the occupants their ability to 
make so much of so little.” 

Tell me how the room is furnished. Is 
the floor carpeted ?” 

“ There is a matting on the floor, with 
some of the prettiest rugs I ever saw. The 
rugs are home-made, but that does not de- 
tract from their prettiness. There are a few 
pictures on the walls, which give to the room 
an air of refinement it would otherwise lack. 
Then there are plenty of chairs, a table 
always covered with books and papers, and 
a patchwork covered lounge, with large pil- 
lows which are perfectly luxurious.” 

Then the pillows are not economical,” 


Elegant Economy. 


1 


said Garrie Maxon. Luxury and economy 
are incompatible/' 

I think you hardly know what econom^’’ 
is, Miss Maxon." 

'' Then please to tell me what it is, Miss 
Harriman. You were always a queer girl — 
a sort of walking cyclopedia ; and I believe 
you are growing queerer all the time." 

That must be because I have bidden 
adieu to elegance and taken to the practice 
of economy." 

‘‘No, it is not. You were never more 
elegant than now. Everybody says that you 
are always elegantly dressed." 

“Yet I am obliged to be very economical. 
For the last two years my personal expenses 
have been less than you have paid for 
gloves." 

“You have earned a good deal." 

“It has been a good deal for me and mine, 
but it would be very little for you. And yet. 


8 


Our Homes, 


Miss Maxon, in some places you count 
money as closely as I do.” 

Miss M axon’s face flushed, and her dark 
eyes betrayed her anger at this remark. She 
remembered that she had insisted upon pay- 
ing the very lowest price for the work done 
by her old schoolmate, whose father had once 
been even more wealthy than her own. A 
series of misfortunes had reduced Mr. Harri- 
man to poverty, after which his health failed, 
until the time of his death; six months before 
his daughter was discussing the question of 
economy with Garrie Maxon. 

“ People must do the best they can with 
what they have,” at length said the young 
lady, who was sitting idly, while another 
worked for her industriously. 

That is true, and that is elegant econo 
my,” replied the worker. 

“ I hate that phrase, Cornie Harriman. I 
don’t believe in it ; but I wish you would tell 


Elegant Economy. 


9 


me whose room is so elegant, luxurious, com- 
fortable and economical, all in one.” 

“ It is Mrs. Horton’s, and I think no one 
will dispute her claim to elegance.” 

“ I suppose not; everybody admires her.” 

“ Everybody who knows her loves her. 
She seems to me to be the dearest, sweetest 
old lady in the world, and Mr. Horton is 
worthy to be her husband.” 

They are dreadfully poor, aren’t they ?” 

There is nothing dreadful in the poverty 
which makes the most and best of every- 
thing. They are economical, but they are 
not parsimonious. They live frugally, but 
they give generously.” 

“ I don’t see how they can have anything 
to give away.” 

“ They can, because they will. They give 
what others most need — sympathy, counsel, 
and rest. Often, too, they give some poor 
tired girl like me a plain supper at their 


lO 


Our Homes. 


table, and make her feel that she is not quite 
alone in the world.” 

Cornie Harriman, I should think you 
were reading out of a book. You have not 
looked up since I first came into the room.” 

‘‘You told me when you engaged me to 
work for you that you should expect me to 
be very industrious, and I assured you I would 
give a full equivalent for my wages.” 

“ I know I said so ; but I expected you 
would look up once in a while. I had set my 
heart on having just so much out of my al- 
lowance, and I could not afford to pay very 
high for work. I could not have had that 
dress anyway, if you had not managed so 
well about other things. I think you must be 
very economical.” 

“ I am. I am obliged to be very econom- 
ical in my own expenses, and in the expenses 
of our house ; and I consider it my duty to 
do the best I can for those who employ me. 


Elegant Economy, 1 1 

Please tell me, now, if this trimming suits 
you ?” 

It is elegant ; perfectly elegant !” replied 
Miss Maxon, after examining it carefully. 
“No one else would have made such a dress 
and trimmings from so small a pattern. Ma- 
dame Renau cuts up cloth fearfully, and she 
asks such ruinous prices for her work, one 
needs to be very rich to patronize her. She 
is pinching enough with those who work for 
her, but grand as a duchess with her custom- 
ers. For one, I am tired of her, and I don’t 
think her fits are any better than yours 
either.” 

“ She is very stylish.” 

“ And very extravagant. She will do ex- 
actly as she pleases with everything carried 
to her, and after paying her exorbitant bills, 
she expects you to be very grateful for her 
condescension in working for you. She is 
getting more and more exacting every year.” 


12 


0^ir Homes. 


“And more unfortunate.” 

“ Unfortunate ! How is she unfortunate ?” 

“ In having such a husband. He makes 
constantly increasing demands upon her for 
money. He always claimed a large amount, 
but he claims more every year, and the poor 
woman must furnish it in some way.” 

“ I would not do it. It is enough for a wo- 
man to earn her own living, without support- 
ing some idle man. I have always wondered 
about Mr. Renau. He dresses and drives 
like a rich man ; but of course a rich man 
would not wish his wife to do dressmaking. 
I have sometimes thought Madame Renau 
was half afraid of him, for all he addresses 
her so sweetly. He has elegant manners, 
but I fancy he practices very little economy.” 

Miss Harriman did not choose to say more 
of the fashionable modiste, and after consult- 
ing her companion in regard to some trim- 
ming, relapsed into silence, and was soon left 


Elegant Economy. 


13 


alone. Then she rested for a moment, lean- 
ing her head upon her hand, and thinking of 
her humble home. Her mother, herself and 
three young sisters were to be supported by 
her earnings. She was a rapid worker, but 
sometimes the supply was scanty. 

Yet as she went among those she had 
known in former days, she envied none 
of them. In many a house was a skel- 
eton, grim and bare, whose existence was 
carefully concealed from the fashionable 
world. There were envy and jealousy, with 
struggles for higher positions in society, where 
wealth was the magic key which unlocked its 
portals. 

But she could not long indulge in reverie. 
She was expected to accomplish much, and 
she would not disappoint her employer. Her 
fingers again flew swiftly, with her thoughts 
intent upon the work before her. 

Meanwhile, Garrie Maxon was praising 


Our Homes. 


H 

her deftness to a mutual acquaintance, and 
recommending her as the cheapest dress- 
maker in the city. 

‘'You know her dresses were always 
lovely, and I once heard her say that 
she often changed them after they were 
made. I advise you to engage her and 
give her carte blanche for everything. She 
has wonderful taste, and will make more dis- 
play with the same amount of material than 
any modiste I ever saw. Her fits are per- 
fectly elegant.” 

“ It must seem strange to have her work- 
ing for you, when she used to be the very 
queen of our set.” 

“ She is a queen still ; the most unaccount- 
able girl, as she always was. She never re- 
fers to old times, and as she prefers to have 
her dinner carried to her, there is no awk- 
wardness about her coming to the table.” 

“ There could be no awkwardness ^about 


Elegant Economy. 


15 


anything Cornie Harriman would do. I 
have never called upon her since the family 
moved from their house in E street, but I 
always liked her, and I can remember the time 
when we were both of us proud of her ac- 
quaintance.” 

“They are quite out of the way,” said Miss 
Maxon, ignoring this last remark. “ I don’t 
suppose I should have thought of calling if 
she had not been recommended to me as 
doing nice work at cheap rates. She is 
glad to work at almost any price, although 
she insisted upon more than I intended to 
pay. Mother thinks she is quite exorbitant 
in her prices, considering how poor she is, 
but I must say that I am satisfied, only I am 
glad to make the most I can of my allow- 
ance.” 

“ It must be hard for her to work so ; and 
she was the last one of us all who might 
have expected such a fate.” 


i6 


Our Homes, 


“ Why was she 

Because Mr. Harriman was so substan- 
tial and so careful in his business. Father 
says there was a mystery about it. Mr. 
Harriman said he could never understand it. 
If he had lived he might have retrieved his 
fortune.” 

“ I presume he would. It is a pity there 
are no boys to push their way. Only four 
girls, and Cornie, the oldest, not yet twenty- 
one.” 

She may make a fortune for them all. 
Her being a girl does not make that impos- 
sible, as it would fifty years ago. People 
thought she would teach music, or apply for 
a situation in our public schools.” 

‘‘ I asked her once why she did not teach, 
and she said she preferred what she was 
doing.” 

“That is sufficient reason for doing it; 


Elegant Economy. 1 7 

and perhaps, if we were obliged to earn our 
own support” — 

“ Mercy, Belle, don’t speak of it ! I could 
not do it ! It would be dreadful ! I don’t 
see how women live who do it; working 
hard, as they must, and counting every penny 
before spending it” 

I presume some of them live very com- 
fortably and very happily ; and if these hard 
times continue, many of us may need to learn 
the value of pennies.” 

Why, Belle, is your father on the eve of 
failure ?” 

I don’t know that he is, but some one 
goes down every day, and it may be father’s 
turn next. He said, last evening, that all 
business is very uncertain.” 

“ My father always talks like that ; and 
when he gave me my quarterly allowance, 
he said I must not expect another dollar in 

any emergency. That was what made me 
■ 2 


i8 


Our Homes, 


think of trying a cheaper dressmaker than 
Madame Renau.” 

“ Madame Renau is at work for Miss Bay- 
liss ; hurrying, too, as the wedding is to 
occur sooner than was expected.” 

" But I supposed Miss Bayliss would order 
her trousseau from Worth.” 

It seems that she does not. Mr. Palmer, 
the bridegroom elect, is far from rich, and 
Mr. Bayliss has recently met with heavy 
losses; so the whole affair is to be quite plain 
and inexpensive.” 

“ And to think that she might have married 
Clayborne Thaxter, worth a round million. 
I always wondered how she could make 
up her mind to refuse him.” 

“ Knowing his habits, how could she 
decide otherwise ? He is a drunkard, and 
not yet thirty years old. What will he be as 
he grows older? It is said that he offered 
to settle upon her half his fortune.” 


Elegant Economy, 


19 


That must have been a great temptation.’' 

“I think not. She would rather live in 
three rooms with Mr. Palmer.” 

“ Well, I shouldn’t. I never saw the man 
yet that I would sacrifice myself for in that 
way. I don’t believe in pinching and contriv- 
ing to make one dollar go as far as two. I 
shall not do it.” 

“ I cannot speak so positively, and I know 
full well, that the happiest people are not 
those who spend the most money.” 

“ Perhaps you will agree with Cornie Har- 
riman, that economy is elegant.” 

It may be elegant. I am sure of that ; 
but the question for me is, can I practice it 
in elegant fashion ?” 

I don’t understand Belle Clyde’s mood 
this morning,” soliloquized Miss Maxon, 
after her friend’s departure. It cannot be 
possible that she will marry Wilton Arms, 
with nothing but his head and hands to de- 


20 


Our Homes, 


pend upon. They would make a splendid 
looking couple, and she could trust him for 
all eternity ; but he is poor, and not a bit 
ashamed of it either. If he only had Clay- 
borne Thaxter s money, he would be a match 
for the grandest lady in the land.” 


II. 


TRUE HAPPINESS. 

NLY three rooms, but they were so 
situated, that the large connecting 
doors could be thrown wide open ; 
thus giving an air of spaciousness to the 
small apartments ; — cosy, comfortable, and 
home-like. One felt instinctively that here 
was rest and happiness. 

It was the home of old people who had 
seen many changes in life, but who, through 
all, had loved and trusted each other ; loved 
and trusted, also, the dear Heavenly Father, 
who doeth all things well. Their refined and 
truly elegant manners would have graced a I 
palace ; yet here they seemed by no means 
out of place. 



22 


Our Homes. 


“How much we have for which to be 
thankful !” said Mr. Horton, as they sat down 
to their evening meal of bread, butter, stewed 
fruit, and tea. “ It seems to me, sometimes, 
that we are the two happiest people in the 
world.’' 

“ I am sure none can be happier, unless 
their capacity for happiness is greater than 
ours. I used to think poverty would take 
something from the zest of living ; but our 
limited income does not trouble me, except 
when I wish to do for others more than our 
means will allow.” 

“ And then, wife, are you quite sure that 
what you can give is not worth even more 
to them than what you would give? Those 
who come here for help learn lessons they 
could never learn from you were you a rich 
woman. It is because you are living on a 
little, and practicing small economies, that 
they trust you to advise them.” 


True Happiness. 


23 


I know it is so, husband, but I can reach 
only a few with my influence, when there 
are thousands and thousands who need to be 
taught. I can tell some poor woman how to 
make the best of what she has, but what is 
one among so many ?” 

‘‘ She may tell some other woman, and 
so your influence extend on and on for 
generations. But the men of the country 
need to learn lessons of thrift and economy 
even more than the women. As I review 
the history of the men and communities I 
have known best, I can see what an enor- 
mous waste is constantly going on. It is this 
waste which fills our poor houses, and fills, 
too, our streets and alleys with starving 
women and children. There are hundreds 
of families who spend more than we do every 
year, who seldom know the luxury of a com- 
fortable meal, and who, through the cold 
weather, are almost never warm.’' 


24 


Our Homes, 


And yet, husband, last year we saved 
twenty-five dollars from our income. We 
shall save as much this year too.” 

“You saved it, my dear. I never could 
imagine how, only I know I missed nothing 
from my usual comforts.” 

“ There may have been more darns in some 
of your clothing.” 

“ If so, I never saw them.” 

A rap on the door interrupted this conver- 
sation, and when bidden to enter, an ele- 
gantly dressed woman threw herself into an 
arm chair, and covering her face, sobbed 
convulsively. Mrs. Horton removed her hat, 
and laid a hand caressingly upon her head 
without speaking, knowing that when this 
paroxysm of grief was over, she would her- 
self break the silence. 

“ I was desperate, and I had nowhere else 
to go,” at length said the visitor in a voice 
tremulous with emotion. 


True Happiness. 25 

“ What is it, dear ?” asked her hostess 
kindly. 

The same old story, only it grows worse 
every day, and I cannot bear it as I used to. 
I am so tired and wretched, I wish I could 
die. O, Mrs. Horton, do you think it would be 
so very wicked to — I cannot say it, but some- 
times people don't live as long as they might. 
They don’t wish to live. It is so much 
easier to die than to bear such terrible trials.” 

“ But after death comes the judgment. 
God sets the bounds to our lives, and no 
murderer can enter the kingdom of Heaven.” 

“ I know, I know. But I sometimes for- 
get everything good. If I could only go 
back to my girlhood, I would be willing to 
live on bread and water. I have thought, if I 
could only save a little, I would go away 
where my husband could never find me ; but 
I cannot keep a dollar. I should not have 
enough to clothe myself, if I could keep my 


26 


Our Homes, 


customers while wearing rags. I receive a 
great deal of money, but my husband claims 
it all. What can I do ?’' 

“You must go to God with your trouble, 
dear. It is very hard that your husband 
should treat you so unkindly. I wish we could 
reach him, but he never comes here.’’ 

“ Oh, no, he never goes anywhere except 
where he can drink and gamble. Often he 
is away all night. O, Mrs. Horton, he will 
never be any better. But he^ drags down 
others ; and I have come here this evening, 
as much for another as for myself” 

Here Mrs. Renau began again to weep, 
her whole frame agitated with the intensity 
of her feelings, until warned by the striking 
of the clock that her visit must not be long. 
With a great effort she controlled herself, and 
turned to Mr. Horton. 

“ Did you know Mr. Alden, who was a mer- 
chant here, about fifty years ago ?” she asked. 


True Happiness. 


27 


“ Certainly I did,” was replied. “ I knew 
him well. We were very good friends when 
we were young men. After he moved west, 
I saw him but once or twice. He died sev- 
eral years ago, and I understood that he left 
a large property to his family. I believe he 
had three children ; two sons and a daughter. 
I was thinking of him to-day, and wondering 
if I should ever see one of his descendants.” 

“ One of his grandsons is boarding at the 
American House. I think he is here with the 
intention of going into business. He is fine 
looking, and is said to be worth quite a for- 
tune.” 

I am glad to hear of him. I think I 
must claim acquaintance on the score of my 
friendship with his grandfather. Do you 
know his name ?” 

“ Chandler Alden ; and I hope, Mr. Horton, 
you will see him to-morrow morning. I wish 
you could call on him to-night, but it is too 


28 


Our Homes, 


late. Pray for him, my friends ; pray for 
him, and may God hear your prayers. There 
is a plot to rob him of his money, and my 
husband is engaged in it. He drinks wine, 
and if he can be persuaded to try his luck 
at the gaming-table, he is lost. My husband 
would kill me if he knew I had betrayed 
him,” added the wretched woman, under her 
breath. “He thinks I dare not speak, but I 
am resolved to save Chandler Alden if possi- 
ble to do so. I wanted to come before.” 

“He shall be saved, if I can accomplish 
it,” answered Mr. Horton. “ I think I know 
where he can be found this evening, and I 
have a good friend on the police who will 
keep some watch over him. I will attend 
to it at once and the old man went out on 
his errand of mercy. 

“ I wish somebody could save me'' mur- 
mured Madame R^nau, when alone with the 
dear old lady whose very presence soothed 


True Happiness. 29 

and strengthened her. “ Oh ! if girls only 
knew that elegant manners and flattering 
words often hide a black heart, there would 
be fewer wretched women in the world. I 
loved my husband once, but I hate the sight 
of him now. It may be wicked, but I hate 
him all the same. He would beat me if he 
did not fear to disable me, so I could earn no 
more money for him. Think, Mrs. Horton, I 
have lived with him ten years, and he has spent 
thousands and thousands of dollars that I 
. have earned. My customers complain of my 
prices, and I know I am hard with the poor 
girls who work for me, but my heart is turn- 
ing to stone.”- 

“ Don’t let it, dear. Don’t let it. Some 
of the women who work for you may be car- 
rying a heavier burden than you carry. 
They may not be so well fed, or so comfort- 
ably clothed. It may be that their earnings 
are as ruthlessly taken as yours. Their 


30 


Our Homes. 


lot may be harder than yours in many 
ways.” 

‘‘ How can it be, Mrs. Horton It seems 
to me I must be the most wretched woman 
in the world.” 

“Oh, no, dear. You have no children to 
be abused by a drunken father. Many a 
mother sees her children suffering privations 
from which she cannot shield them ; sees 
them starve even before her eyes, while her 
husband spends his money for what makes 
him a brute.” 

“ Thank God I have no children. Think 
what I must be to say that, when I have 
buried three babies, I loved b)etter than I 
loved my own life. I think my husband was 
glad to have them dead, but I was frantic 
with grief Thank God they are safe.” 

“Yes, dear, safe in the arms of One who 
loves them with an everlasting love. They 
are waiting for you on the other side of 


True Happiness. 31 

the river, and you must prepare to meet 
them." 

“ If I could only go now, Mrs. Horton ! 
If I could only lie down here and die !" 

You might leave the best part of your 
work undone. Try to help some one else, 
and so forget yourself for a little. It may be 
that God is even now preparing for you a 
way of escape from your troubles. But 
remember, dear, that you must give to 
others as you would have him give to you. 
Don't be hard with those who work for you. 
I have no doubt that some of them would 
prize a kind word from you, as much as you 
prize my poor sympathy." 

'‘It does not seem possible. Your sym- 
pathy is worth more to me than I can 
express." 

“I am very glad, because I can give it in 
such large measure, while I am made the 
richer for my giving. You know, dear, that 


32 


Our Homes. 


Solomon said : ' There is that scattereth 

and yet increaseth ; and there is that with- 
holdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to 
poverty. Now it may be that, to-morrow 
morning, some poor woman, young or old, 
will come hungry to your work-room. She 
<nay have denied herself the food she craved, 
for the sake of one she loved, or possibly she 
may have eaten the last morsel in her cup- 
board this very evening. It would be a 
little thing for you to give her a cup of coffee, 
a slice of toast, and some cold meat, but it 
would be an almost priceless boon to her. 
Then you could be thinking, all day, that 
you had given somebody a great happiness. 
There are more hungry people among' us 
than we know ; people, too, who would 
rather starve than beg.” 

“ There are hungry hearts, too, throbbing 
under silks and satins and laces.” 


True Happiness. 33 

“Yes, dear, but where the body is starv- 
ing, the heart must suffer also.” 

“So it must, and it must be terrible to 
starve. I cannot think what it would be. I 
have always had an abundance of food and 
clothing.” 

“ And your house is always well warmed 
and lighted.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ What would it be if you were obliged to 
buy your wood by the stick, and could have 
no light but a farthing candle ?” 

“ Life would be a thousand times worse 
than it is now, unless I had some one to love 
me tenderly, whose love would compensate 
for all things else. Yet perhaps I speak 
harshly to some poor woman who must 
choose between sufficient light for work and 
sufficient food. I may have made her lot 
harder. I am glad you have reminded me of 

my duty. When I came in here, it seemed 
3 


34 


Our Homes. 


as though the whole world was leagued 
against me, and I really believe I hated 
everybody except you and your good hus- 
band. Now I will go home and try to make 
the best of my lot ; and dear Mrs. Horton, I 
will try to help others. I have been very 
selfish.” 

“ Will you pray for help, dear The heart 
of your husband is in God’s hands. Will you 
pray for him ?” 

“ I cannot do that. I cannot pray for one 
I hate, but I will try to pray for myself.” 

By this time Madame R^nau had regained 
much of her usual self-control ; so that when 
Mr. Horton came she met him cheer- 
fully. 

“ I think Chandler Alden is safe for this 
evening,” he said at once. “ To-morrow 
morning I will endeavor to see him.” 

“ Thank you, thank you. I shall be so 
thankful if he can be saved. Thank you 


True Happiness. 35 

both for all your kindness and sympathy. 
Good-bye.” 

She was gone, and the old couple sat 
through the evening, talking of the misery 
around them, and yet not unmindful of the 
beauty and happiness possible to life. 

“ If people would only strive for goodness 
as they strive for riches, the millenium 
would soon dawn,” remarked Mrs. Hor- 
ton. 

“ True, wife, it would,” was replied. “ But 
the greed of gold, strong as it is, is overmas- 
tered by the appetite for strong drink. 
While I was out, this evening, I heard a man 
who has spent a fortune for liquor tell the 
officer who arrested him that he didn’t care 
where he went if he could only have all the 
whiskey he wanted to drink. Twenty years 
ago that man was welcomed in the first 
society, and considered a man of refined and 
even fastidious tastes.” 


3 ^ 


Our Homes. 


How can the appetite acquire such power 
over a person ?” 

I cannot tell you, wife ; I only know the 
terrible fact. My old friend, Chandler Alden, 
drank an occasional glass of wine, never 
refusing it when offered him in company, and 
I presume he was never intoxicated. But his 
grandson will do well to take heed. He was 
inclined to ridicule me when I signed off, but 
it was necessary that I should. You remem- 
ber, wife, that before our marriage, we pledged 
ourselves never to have wine in our house 
unless as a medicine.” 

“1 do remember it, and I believe, if our 
children had lived, they would have grown 
up strictly temperate.” 

‘‘ So do I. Every day I live, I am more 
convinced that we must depend upon home 
influence to save our nation from the dangers 
which threaten it. Men and women, no less 
than children, need to learn that the highest 


True Happiness. 


37 


happiness of which they are capable is to be 
found in their own homes, and that they, 
themselves, can make their homes what they 
please.” 

“If boys were taught this by experience, 
as well as by precept, they would not grow 
up to prefer the glare and tinsel of saloons to 
the quiet of some cosey room ; and if girls 
knew that, as wives, they must depend upon 
their husbands and the resources of their 
homes for most, if not all, of their happiness, 
they would think less of showy manners and 
more of sturdy uprightness. Madame Re- 
nan’s fancy was captivated by a certain ease 
and elegance any man can easily acquire, 
while she knew nothing of the antecedents of 
her lover.” 

“ She trusted his word, and he told her 
that he owned a large estate in France, 
which for some reason he could not then 
control, but which would soon be in his pos- 


38 


Our Homes. 


session. There was not a particle of truth 
in the story ; as of course she knew long ago. 
I imagine he has never been nearer to France 
than perhaps some French settlement in Ca- 
nada.” 

“ I presume not. He is an impostor with- 
out a dollar except what he takes from his 
wife or wins at the gambling-table. I should 
not be surprised at any time to know that he 
has a family living elsewhere.” 

“ That would release Madame Renau, and 
I think she would welcome the release, even 
at the expense of knowing that she had no 
right to the name of wife.” 



III. 

THANKFUL FOR A CRUST. 

HE next morning, Madame R^nau 
was early in her work-room, al- 
though her pale cheeks and sunken 
eyes betrayed the fact that she had passed 
a sleepless night. 

Her husband had come home past mid- 
night, in the worst possible humor ; cursing 
his luck, and threatening vengeance upon 
those who had thwarted his plans, and so 
cheated him of a large amount of money. 
Another time he would make a sure thing 
of it. 

Of course, his wife was the victim of his 
impotent rage ; but conscious that her plan 
had succeeded, she could bear it with greater 



40 


Our Homes. 


patience. Moreover, she had prayed for 
strength and submission, until her hatred for 
him who had so saddened her life became 
less intense. She could even find it in her 
heart to pity him for his sinfulness ; and when 
she left him sleeping heavily, it was with a 
resolve that she would help some other wo- 
man to bear a burden, perhaps heavier than 
her own. 

The old sharpness was gone from her 
voice. Her eyes, usually cold and dry, were 
dewy with unshed tears of sympathy, as she 
greeted kindly one after another, scanning 
each face, that she might read, if possible, 
the untold story of each life. At last ap- 
peared the very face she had been seeking ; 
so starved and pinched, she was certain that 
here was the realization of Mrs. Horton’s 
prophecy. Making some excuse for calling 
her from her companions, Madame Renau 
led her to the breakfast-room 


Thankful for a Crust, 41 

^ Drink a cup of coffee, and take some 
toast and meat,” said the hostess gently. 
“ After that you can tell me all about it.” 

How did you know?” sobbed the young 
girl. “ How did you know there was any- 
thing to tell ?” 

“ I saw it in your face,” was replied. “ I 
was looking for an opportunity to help some- 
body, and I thought you needed help. I was 
afraid you came from home, this morning,’ 
without your breakfast.” 

“ I did. There was only a little, and I left 
it for mother and the children.” 

“ Then eat your breakfast now. Here is 
plenty. Thank God, I have that !” 

“ It is a great deal to have. I would not 
have believed I should ever be thankful for a 
crust; but I have been, more than once. I 
only had a crust yesterday, and I know poor 
mother is half starved, although she does not 
complain. You don’t know how dreadful it is.” 


42 


Our Homes, 


“No, I don’t. Eat, now, and be satisfied ; 
and while you are eating, I will see what can 
be found for your family at home.” 

Madame Renau quite forgot herself as 
she consulted her cook, and helped with her 
own hands to fill a basket with wholesome 
food. 

“ There’s every day enough comes from 
the table to feed two mouths with plenty,” 
said the good-natured English woman. “ It 
goes against me to turn it to the swill-man, 
but it’s not wanted twice here.” 

No allusion was made to Mr. Renau, but 
his wife knew only too well that he demand- 
ed the first and best of everything. 

“ I am afraid we are not very economical,” 
she responded. “ I have seen the statement 
that a French family would live comfortably 
on what an American family wastes. But 
this is a land of plenty.” 

“ Plenty for some, and starving for others. 


Thankful for a Crust. 43 

If rd encourage beggars, I’d just be overrun 
with them entirely. There’s much might be 
given to them that needs, and you no poorer 
for it.” 

Then save it ; don’t waste it. May be 
we will some time have warmed up dishes 
for ourselves.” 

“ I’d be that glad to do them. Before I 
came to you, I lived where there was never a 
crust nor a bone wasted. Everything, too, 
was just elegant, ’though there was so little 
for the house. Such turning, and darning, 
and mending as you’d hardly believe, and no- 
body to know it either. Ah ! madame, it’s 
half the money goes for nothing, or worse. 
But for that, I think everybody ’d be living in 
fine houses, with enough to eat and drink.” 

I am not sure but they would. I am 
afraid we have wasted a great deal. Now we 
will save, so that we may help others. When 
Miss Darrah has finished her breakfast, I will 


44 


Our Homes, 


send her to you ; and here is the money to 
pay a boy for carrying this basket to her 
home. We must learn to think of others, as 
well as of ourselves.” 

Amy Darrah would gladly have shared 
with her mother the toast and meat upon her 
plate, but she was unwilling to ask permis- 
sion to do so, and hungry as she was, she ate 
heartily. 

“ May God bless you for your kindness,” 
she said in a husky voice when Madame 
Renau returned to her. 

“ You have done me a greater kindness 
than you have received,” was replied earn- 
estly. “ I cannot tell you about it, but you 
have done me good. There is a basket of 
food in the kitchen, packed for your mother, 
and if you will accept it, Mrs. Musgrove will 
find some one to carry it home for you. You 
can go, too, and you need not hurry back. 


Thankful for a Crust, 45 

Perhaps you can work for an hour or two 
this evening.” 

“ I think I can work all night, I feel so 
strong and well.” 

“ I am glad. And now, good-bye, until 
you are ready for work.” 

Amy Darrah preferred to carry the basket 
herself. She was sure she would not mind 
the weight. Her home was near, and pres- 
ently she was hurrying down the street, won- 
dering as she went what had wrought such a 
change in her employer. She had prayed 
that relief might come, but she had never 
dreamed that it would come from such a 
source. A shout of surprise at. seeing^ her, 
and then a shout of gladness at the contents 
of the basket greeted her when she reached 
home. The food looked so temptingly nice, 
and all were so hungry, notwithstanding the 
breakfast they had eaten. 

“ What’s the reason everybody don’t have 


46 


Our Homes, 


enough, when there’s such heaps of things 
everywhere ?” asked the youngest, a boy of 
six. 

“ It is because folks spend so much money 
for beer, and whiskey, and tobacco. That is 
what I heard a man say, and mother says so 
too. I tell you I shan’t touch such stuff; 
would you, Amy ?” responded the older 
brother. 

“ Indeed I would not, and I would rather 
you should die now, than live to drink beer 
or whiskey.” 

“ I won’t touch it anyway. I won’t go 
where they sell it, ’though Mr. Clayter said 
I deserved to go hungry, if I wouldn’t take 
up with such a chance as he offered me. I 
wanted to earn some money, but I wouldn’t 
sell beer. I am going out again to-day ; and 
now our luck has turned, I feel as brave as a 
lion about it. I guess I shall get a first rate 
job to-day.” 


Thankful for a Crust. 47 

“ I hope you will, my son ; bu^you must 
remember that there is no such thing a.^ luck. 
God has heard our prayers/' 

And Madame Renau has answered them 
for him. And mother, don’t answers always 
come so ? Don't somebody have to bring 
them ?” 

Yes, John, and it may be^that God will 
honor you by making you his messenger to 
some troubled soul.” 

“ O mother, I wish he would. But I am 
such a poor fellow, I guess he won't think of 
me ; ’though, yesterday, I did help the poor 
old Irish woman that lives in the next house. 
I picked up the potatoes that rolled out of 
her basket when she fell down, and I carried 
them up-stairs for her ; but I don’t suppose 
that was of any account.” 

“ It may have been to her, John. We 
never know how much good a kind act will 
do.” 


48 


Our Homes, 


Amy had gone into a small inner room, 
where Bessie was still in bed, because too 
tired and discouraged to take up anew the 
burden of life, and because, also, as she told 
her sister, she “wanted mother and the boys 
to have what food there was.” Now she 
would be up and dressed in five minutes, and 
she really laughed at the prospect before her. 

“You won’t be afraid, now, to ask Madame 
Renau to give me some of her plainest work, 
will you ?” she said confidently, after hear- 
ing a report of the lady’s generosity. 

“ I don’t think I will be,” replied Amy. 
“ She was so good this morning, I wondered 
how I could ever have thought her hard and 
unkind. She has her troubles, perhaps more 
than anybody but herself knows. I half 
think she is afraid of her husband, and every- 
body says that she supports him.” 

“ I would not do it. I would not support 
a drunkard or any other man, too lazy to 


Than/zful for a Crust. 49 

work for himself. We have not any drunk- 
ards in our family, and that is something for 
which to be thankful. I could live on ever 
so little, if I was only sure of it, and I should 
be willing to divide, and pinch myself a little, 
if those I divide with would not waste what I 
saved. I have been calculating how much I 
could buy for just one dollar, and I assure 
you it was quite an amount. I wish I could 
earn the dollar to experiment with.” 

“ I think I can spare you a dollar to-mor- 
row night, and perhaps you can work enough 
for Madame Renau to pay for what I have 
just brought home.” 

“ I can. I know she will let me. I will 
work all day to-morrow, and next v/eek too. 
There, who would imagine that dress to be 
made of patches and pieces ?” exclaimed the 
happy girl, displaying this triumph of her 
skill. 

“ No one could imagine such a thing, Bess. 


50 


Our Homes, 


I must say that you will make more out of a 
bundle of rags than any one else I ever saw. 
The girls always praise my hats,” 

“ If they only knew the history of your 
hats, wouldn’t they be surprised ? But if 
economy is to be genteel and elegant, it must 
be a little private. So I don’t propose to 
make a public disclosure of ways and means. 
Just now, I must see what I can do with a 
basket of cold victuals. Mother was used to 
having everything for so many years, that — I 
will not say it, but she knows that I am to 
the manner born.” 

“Halloa, Bess!” exclaimed John, as she 
appeared. “ I thought you would be out 
here to the second breakfast. Mother said 
we must wait for you. Aren’t we rich ? I 
want you to hurry up and give me my share, 
so I can be off. I have business on hand for 
to-day. Mother must have some tea and 
toast. As for me, I can gnaw a bone.” 


Thankful for a Crust 51 

“No sir, that is too expensive a luxury for 
you. Bones can be put to better use than 
that. They must be cracked and simmered.” 

“ Until they are soft?” asked Frale inno- 
cently. 

“ Not quite that, but until there is not a bit 
of goodness left in them ; and I have the 
foundation of a delicious soup to be served 
for supper.” 

‘‘ But I should think mother was the one 
to say about that. Don’t she know best ?” 

“ Bessie knows best this time,” said Mrs. 
Darrah. “ We are all going to say together, 
and all going to work together too. We 
must all help along the good cause.” 

“ That is just what we must do,” responded 
Amy. “ And my way of helping is to go 
back to my work. If I am not home until 
evening, you must not be anxious.” 

Tea and toast were luxuries reserved for 
mother,” but Bessie and the boys had no 


52 


Our Homes, 


reason to complain of the substantial break- 
fast, eaten almost greedily. 

“ I thought I was pretty well off before, 
but I tell you, this extra makes a fellow feel 
good,” said John, as he buttoned up his jacket 
with the air of one who has a purpose to 
accomplish. “ I will earn something to-day. 
See if I don’t.” 

I have no doubt you will,” was replied 
confidently. “We shall have a good day.” 

“ We shall, if you make it so,” said Mrs. 
Darrah, looking at her daughter admiringly. 
“ If I had learned the economy and nice 
management which seems to be natural to 
you, we should not be so poor as we are now. 
Your father and I never considered ourselves 
extravagant, but I know now, that we might 
have lived on much less than we did. We 
neither of us counted pennies very carefully. 
He smoked his cigar without calculating the 
cost, and I bought what pleased my fancy, 


Thankful for a Crtist. 53 

unless it was too expensive, without consid- 
ering if the money could be better appropriat- 
ed. We wasted where we should have saved, 
and our children suffer for it. I don’t blame 
your father as much as I blame myself, but I 
am sorry for our imprudence.” 

“ Never mind, mother. We are not going 
to suffer. We are going to prosper wonder- 
fully. We certainly shall not starve before 
Monday, and a great many good things may 
happen by that time. We are not going to 
be fed by charity either. I am going to 
work for Madame Renau and pay for this 
food, if I scour pots and kettles and sift ashes. 
We will have soup and crackers for supper. 
I have nine cents, I have been saving 
against a time of need, and I guess that time 
will be this evening. We can eat crackers, 
and save something better for Sunday.” 

Thus Bessie Darrah talked, flitting to and 
fro from the little pantry to the wheezy stove, 


54 


Our Homes, 


until, at last, the well cracked bones were 
arranged in the stew pan with exactly the right 
quantity of water. Then she went to the 
bakers, not far away, expending her nine 
cents with wonderful judgment, and receiving 
a wonderful return, over which she rejoiced 
with the delight of a child. 

For the want of other occupation, she ex- 
amined, for the twentieth time, the contents 
of a Saratoga trunk, from which she had in 
some mysterious ways, drawn materials for 
various serviceable garments. She had 
thought its resources exhausted ; but in the 
light of this glad morning, she saw how bun- 
dles, before condemned, could be utilized. 

They were so much richer than she had 
fancied ; and her fingers flew swiftly, as she 
planned, cut, matched and pieced. 

“ There, mother she exclaimed triumph- 
antly. There is the material for good warm 
undergarments for the boys ; one for John, 


Thankful for a Crust. 55 

and one for Frale. They will be like 
Josephs coat, of many colors, but that is of 
no consequence.” 

None at all, my dear, although I should 
never have thought of making them in that 
way.” 

“ ^ Necessity is the mother of invention.’ 
Sometimes the necessity is so great it kills 
the spirit of invention, but this morning it is 
of the right measure. I am not sure but I 
can invent a warm garment for you, if you 
are not too fastidious.” 

“ I am not at all fastidious in that direction. 
A warm garment would be acceptable, but I 
am afraid you or Amy need it more than I.” 

Oh, no, mother, we have an ample sup- 
ply ;” and the young girl laughed as she 
thought of this supply, drawn from the same 
old trunk. 

“ I can make the garments, except the 
button holes,” said Mrs. Darrah, catching 


56 


Our Homes. 


something of her daughter’s spirit. “ If I 
had been trained to cut and make, when I 
was at your age, it would have been worth 
hundreds, and perhaps thousands of dollars 
to us. I cannot imagine why you and Amy 
should have such a genius for sewing.” 

“ I suspect it was a special gift, bestowed 
for special needs.” 

“ It must have been. No such gift was 
bestowed upon me, and I did not see the 
need of acquiring it by patient practice and 
hard work. I am sure it can be acquired.” 

‘‘ Never mind that now, mother. We can 
none of us go back to rectify mistakes. The 
past is behind us. The future is before us, 
and we will make the best of it.” 



IV. 


THE grandfather’s FRIEND. 

OMETHING was wrong. Chandler 
Alden knew that, the moment he 
awoke. His hands were hot and 
feverish ; his temples throbbed with pain, and 
his eyelids were heavy, as if pressed down 
by leaden weights. 

He recalled the events of the previous 
evening. He had dined with a party of gen- 
tlemen, and after dinner he had drank freely 
of wine. Beyond this his recollection was 
confused. There was an abrupt termination 
of their jollity ; hurried departures amid mut- 
tered curses, and an attempt on his part to 
reach his room at the hotel. 

In some way this had been accomplished. 



58 


Oiir Homes. 


but how, he could not tell. For the first 
time in his life, he was obliged to acknowl- 
edge that he had been positively intoxicated. 
He had come here to establish himself in busi- 
ness, yet he had wasted some precfous days 
in idleness. He had gained nothing. He 
had lost much ; how much, he was resolved 
to know. 

He attempted to rise, but fell back heavily 
upon his pillow. A second attempt was 
more successful. His whole physical nature 
craved some powerful stimulant ; but, to his 
credit be it said, he denied the craving. 
Two cups of strong coffee served for his 
breakfast, and this was taken so late in the 
morning, that Mr. Horton called while he 
lingered at the table. 

“ I was your grandfather’s friend when we 
were both young, and I wished to see you for 
his sake,” said the old gentleman, as they met 
in a private parlor. “ I presume you have 


The Grandfather s Friend. 


59 


never heard of me, but I should be sure of 
your relationship to my friend. You resem- 
ble him in face and figure.” 

I am glad to see you, sir. Thank you 
for calling upon me. I knew my grandfather 
once lived here, but you are the first person 
I have seen who was acquainted with him.” 

“ Most of his associates are gone. Not 
many have lived to my age. But he was a 
man of fine physique. He looked as though 
he might live a hundred years.” 

“You compliment me,” replied the young 
man smilingly. “ My grandfather was»so long 
an invalid, that I remember him only with a 
look of pain upon his face. He suffered very 
much, and I presume that his sufferings made 
him restless and exacting.” 

“ That was not his natural disposition. 
He was one of the best natured fellows in the 
world. I used to think him a most delight- 
ful man in his family.” 


6o 


Our Homes. 


“ I presume that he was so, and I suppose 
he was a good business man.” 

'‘He was, and I heard that he left a large 
property.” 

“ Not so large as was expected ; but of 
course no one had any right to complain.” 

“ Certainly not. Your grandfather began 
poor and worked his way up. His children 
and grandchildren could do the same, and 
there is a real satisfaction in such an achieve- 
ment. Industry, frugal habits, and unswerv- 
ing integrity will give any man a compe- 
tency in this country.” 

“ And yet, Mr. Horton, there are thou- 
sands of men, with fair abilities, who are 
poor all their lives ; uncomfortably poor, I 
mean ; so poor, they find it impossible to meet 
the ordinary demands of life.” 

“ Is it not often their own fault? Misfor- 
tune comes to all, and we are so linked 
together, that the innocent must sometimes 


The Grandfather^ s Friend. 6i 

suffer with the guilty ; but abject poverty is 
usually the result of idleness or misconduct. 
Sometime, I should like to discuss this very 
point with you. Now, it may be that I am 
detaining you from some engagement.” 

“No sir, you are not. I have no engage- 
ment this morning. I ought to decide upon 
some matters of business, but they can be 
deferred.” 

Neither could have told just how the con- 
versation became so confidential, but Chandler 
Alden soon found himself talking with his 
guest as he would have talked with an 
old friend. He even disclosed his partly 
formed plans, and asked advice in regard to 
them, 

“ The business you propose is one of the 
few not overdone in this city, and your success 
in it will depend entirely upon yourself,” said 
Mr. Horton. Once establish a reputation 
for fair dealing, and hold yourself above the 


62 


Our Homes, 


follies and vices in which so many young men 
indulge, and your fortune is assured.” 

“ The latter is the strong point.” 

“Yes, Mr. Alden, and it is where the ma- 
jority fail.” 

“ I am afraid you are right.” 

“ I am sure of it.” 

There was a summons to the door, and a 
card placed in the hand of Mr. Alden, who, 
glancing at it, said : 

“ Tell him I am engaged and cannot see 
him.” 

“ I am afraid I have made an undesirable 
acquaintance,” he added, turning to Mr. Hor- 
ton. “A Mr. Renau has been very polite to 
me, but I am beginning to suspect him of 
being undesirable.” 

“ Mr. Renau is an idle man, living about 
town, supported by his hard-working wife, 
whom he shamefully abuses: He is a drunk- 
ard and a gambler. So much of his character 


The Grandfather's Friend, 


63 


appears, and what does not appear is proba- 
bly worse. Excuse an old man for speaking 
plainly ; but he would never be your friend, 
and he is not worthy to be your acquaint- 
ance.” 

Thank you for speaking plainly. I need 
to hear plain speaking.” 

‘‘We all need to hear it sometimes,” was 
responded ; and when Mr. Horton rose to go, 
he received a promise that his call should be 
soon returned. 

Left alone. Chandler Alden sat down to 
take account with himself ; and while thus 
engaged, received Mr. Renau’s card for the 
second time. 

“ Show him up,” was said, after a mo- 
ment’s hesitation. 

The gentleman came in with the air of 
one sure of a welcome : but as his proffered 
hand was declined, he showed signs of 
embarrassment. 


64 


Our Homes, 


“Have you business with me?” asked his 
host coldly. 

“ I called to invite you to drive with me,” 
he answered, as the color deepened in his 
face and his eyes flashed. 

“ I must decline the pleasure,” said Mr. Al- 
den. “ I have already wasted too much 
time since I came here^ and unless you 
have further business with me, must beg 
to be excused from a longer interview.” 

“ You are in my debt,” exclaimed Mr. 
Renau angrily. “ You are in my power, and 
you will find me an implacable enemy.” 

“ Enemy or friend is the same to me 
and the tone in which this was said made 
certain that the indifference was not feigned. 

“ But you are in my debt,” was reiterated. 

“ For how much ?” 

“ For one thousand dollars ; and you will 
pay it, or ”— 

“No threats, sir. The time for that has 


The Grandfather' s Friend, 65 

not come ; and, thank God, the time never 
will come when your threats can move me. 
I have the pleasure to wish you good morn- 
ing." 

The door was opened, and the unwelcome 
guest could not choose but pass through. 
It was useless to remonstrate or parley ; use- 
less, too, to urge a claim he could not prove 
without acknowledging his own baseness. 
He was completely foiled. How it had hap- 
pened he could not tell, but some one, guilty 
or innocent, would suffer for it. 

He relinquished the idea of driving, and 
proposed to solace himself with large pota- 
tions of brandy. He could for a time, at least, 
forget his chagrin and disappointment. 

This prospect, however, was less alluring 
than usual. He must have money. His cre- 
ditors were importunate, and must soon be 
silenced with something more substantial than 
promises. He had no regard for his wife, yet 


66 


Our Homes, 


he began to fear there would be a limit 
to her submission. She made large profits in 
her business, but she must maintain a certain 
degree of style in dress and living, or she 
could not do this. As a matter of sentiment, 
he did not care for her love, but it would give 
him a control of her he could not otherwise 
possess ; and he realized that he was fast los- 
ing this control, if, indeed, it was not already 
lost. 

What a life he had lived ! Only God and 
himself knew all its deceit and wickedness. 
He had put the past far out of sight, yet he 
knew that it might again confront him. 

Some wrongs cry to heaven for vengeance ; 
and, though long delayed, punishment is at 
last meted out in full measure. When about 
to enter his favorite drinking place, he saw 
an acquaintance he did not care to meet ; 
and as a last resort, he went home^ to kill 
the time as best he could. 


The Grandfather s Friend. 67 

Home ! What right had he to claim any- 
place as home ! What had he done to make 
a rest of peace and love, for himself or any 
other ! 

Yet he had won his wife by the most tender 
protestations of regard, and the most solemn 
vows of constancy and devotion. She had 
dreamed of a happy future, and he had as- 
sured her that her fondest dreams should find 
their full fruition with him. And she had 
trusted him. 

Others wondered at her credulity. Her 
mother, almost her only relative, expostula- 
ted, but in vain. A short experience had 
sufficed to reveal the selfishness of him she 
had promised to love and honor, yet every 
day made his duplicity and meanness more 
apparent. 

Mr. Horton’s remark that God might be 
preparing some way of escape from her diffi- 
culties, comforted her as the day wore on. 


68 


Our Homes, 


Her customers noticed her more gracious 
manner. Those who "worked for her felt the 
change, and fingers flew swiftly, while weary 
faces brightened. Amy Darrah applied her- 
self with unusual diligence, and being called 
to receive an order, found opportunity to pre- 
fer her sister’s request. 

“ I have no wish to be paid for what I 
gave you, but she may come to-morrow, and 
I will see what she can do,” was replied 
pleasantly. 

When told of this, Bessie was jubilant. 
Indeed, she had been sure of employment 
from the moment Amy told her of Madame 
R^nau’s kindness. 

“ I thought everything was done, but I 
have been as busy as a bee ever since you 
went away this morning,” said the young 
girl. “ Our possessions have increased, and 
multiplied, and beautified all day long. I 
would not have believed another garment 


The Grandfather's Friend. 69 

could ever have been charmed from that old 
trunk ; but we have three, besides four pairs 
of mittens for the boys.” 

“ I shall need dozens of mittens, if I keep 
on working all winter as I have begun,” said 
John. I earned fifteen cents, carrying wood 
up-stairs. I was so tired, I had to stop and 
rest a good many times, but I finished the 
job. I don’t think I could, though, if I hadn’t 
had such a good breakfast. I was think- 
ing all the time, too, how nice it would be at 
home. I tell you, it is a good deal for a fel- 
low to have a home to come to. I saw lots of 
boys I don’t believe have got a bit of a home, 
and there was one little fellow crying because 
he was so hungry.” 

Didn’t anybody give him anything ?” ask- 
ed Frale. 

‘‘Yes, some that knew him did, and I 
spent a cent for him. . A lady gave it to me 
because I picked up a bundle that she drop- 


70 


Our Homes. 


ped, and I bought a biscuit with it. You 
ought to have seen how glad the little chap 
was to get the biscuit.” 

“ What have you done with your day’s 
earnings?” asked Amy. 

“ I gave ten to Bess, and kept five to make 
change with to-morrow. I begin to feel rich, 
don’t you ?” 

Indeed I do.” 

“Then sit up to the table, and feel richer,” 
chimed in Bessie, who had been intent upon 
preparing supper, even while she listened to 
the pleasant chat around her. “ If you like 
my soup, I may apply for a patent, and make 
my fortune by the invention.” 

“ It is just as good as can be,” said every 
one. 

“Then I don’t believe there is a family in 
this city that need to go hungry,” responded 
the cook who was thus complimented. “ Four 
bones, with five cents’ worth of crackers ; all 


The Grandfather s Frie 7 id. 71 

seasoned with pepper and salt; without a 
celery seed or a drop of stewed tomatoes ; 
the crackers added ten minutes before serv- 
ing. Some of the poorest men in the coun- 
try have spent more for tobacco, to-day, than 
this soup cost.” 

There don't one of those men live here, 
does he ?” queried Frale, gazing at his sister 
with honest admiration. 

No, he does not,” she replied empha- 
tically. I shall never economize to save 
money for tobacco. There must be economy 
on all sides of the house, to make it pleasant, 
and unpleasant economy will ruin any home.” 

“ And you think, too, that economy must 
be private, as well as general,” rejoined Amy. 

Tolerably so. I wouldn’t mind saying that 
I can’t afford certain things, but at the same 
time I shouldn’t tell people how many darns 
and patches I had covered with bows and 
plaitings. I remember hearing a lady who 


72 


Our Homes, 


lived South during the war say that, at one 
time, her best dress had more than fifty darns 
and patches in the skirt. I hope not to be 
driven into quite so close quarters.” 

“ I don’t believe you will, Bess. We 
aren’t going to be down South when there is 
a war ; and, besides, we are going to have 
something saved for a rainy day. I am will- 
ing to live on bones and crackers, right along, 
if they are made into as good a soup as this 
is. It is just splendid, isn’t it Frale ?” 

“ Yes, John, it is, but it isn’t quite as good 
as it was at first.” 

This speech was greeted with a shout of 
laughter, at which the child wondered ; but it 
was not long before others were ready to en- 
dorse his sentiments. Then what a happy 
group hoped and planned for the morrow. 
Saturday must be a busy day, but Sunday 
would bring rest. 

“ Some of us must attend church,” said 


The Grandfather' s Friend. 73 

Mrs. Darrah. “ We have been living like 
heathen too long.’^ 

** But, mother, we have no money to pay 
for seats in our old church.’* 

“ Then take seats in a plainer church. 
Take free seats, if we can do no better. I 
am afraid we have allowed our pride to pre- 
vent our enjoying the privileges within our 
reach.” 

Perhaps we have, mother, but it is hard 
to submit to some humiliations, and it seems 
to me very humiliating to attend a mission 
chapel, because we are too poor to pay for 
our share of preaching. I am not willing to 
be indebted Xo charity, public or private, for 
anything. I am willing to work, but I be- 
lieve I should starve, before I would beg 
and having said this, Bessie closed her lips 
tig'litly, as if her decision was final. 

“It wouldn’t be begging, a bit, to go to 
the mission chapel,” responded John. “ It 


74 


Our Hemes. 


says, over the door and on both sides ; 
‘ Welcome to all,' and that means that there 
is room. One Sunday, I looked in, and 
there were ever so many empty seats. The 
minister could preach to lots of people, just 
as easy as he can to twenty, and I shouldn't 
wonder if he could easier. It wouldn't take 
but one sermon, anyway ; and if the rest of 
you don’t want to go, Frale and I had better 
go to Sunday-school. It isn’t respectable 
not to dress up and go somewhere Sunday. 
It seems dreadful poor, just like wicked poor 
folks.” 

“ So it does, my son, and next Sunday, you 
and Frale shall go to to the mission chapel, 
and I will go with you. My bonnet is old- 
fashioned, but I won’t mind that. I know it 
will do me good to hear a sermon once more, 
and so be reminded of my duties.” 

“ I will go to the chapel,” said Amy. “ We 
ought to make some acknowledgment for the 


The Grandfather' s Friend. 75 

blessings sent to us. Bessie can make an un- 
fashionable bonnet presentable, and we none 
of us expect to wear very stylish clothes.” 

“ More stylish than substantial,” responded 
the younger sister. “ I can make over the 
bonnet in an hour, and perhaps, by Sunday 
morning, I shall feel sufficiently humble to 
accompany you.” 

“ I should think you would feel glad and 
thankful enough to go with us,” said John. 
“ Likely there is a chance to pay there, the 
same as anywhere. It must cost something 
to run a mission chapel. Somebody has to 
pay for it, and perhaps we can help. Now, 
I had better go to bed. Frale is fast asleep, 
and I shall be, as soon as I get well tucked 
into bed. Oughtn't we to be thankful for 
good, warm beds? I tell you, we aren’t so 
very poor after all.” 

After the boys had received their good- 
night kisses, and forgotten both sorrows and 


76 


Our Homes, 


pleasures, the mother and daughters sat by 
the glowing fire, musing silently, until Amy 
broke the silence, by saying : 

“ Last evening, it seemed to me that we 
had come to a place where we must stop. I 
had lost all courage, and I knew that Bessie 
had tried to get work, until she was entirely 
disheartened. Madame Renau was always 
distant. I dared not ask a favor of her. It 
was dreadful for me to think of John going 
up and down the streets, doing such jobs as 
he could find, and hearing the profane and 
vulgar talk I know he must hear. But every- 
thing has changed since then, and I begin to 
feel rich, as John says he does. We have 
coal enough for another week, and to-mor- 
row evening, after I have paid a month’s 
rent, I shall have a dollar left for Bessie to 
spend as she pleases.” 

“ I know just how I shall spend it ; and 
with what John can manage to earn, I think 


The Grandfather's Friend. 77 

we shall be all right for next week. After 
that, we must begin to save for a barrel of 
flour, and a ton of coal. It is poor economy 
to buy in small quantities. If possible, I in- 
tend to earn a barrel of flour myself.” 

“ I hope you can, my dear,” responded 
Mrs. Darrah. “ I wish I could do more. I 
ought, at least, to be able to make the most 
of your earnings, but I see, now, that I was 
never trained to habits of economy and 
thrifty management of small resources. Bes- 
sie can do morcs with one dollar than I could 
do with two ; but I can pray for us all ; that 
God will lead us in his own good way, and 
make us thankful for his mercies.” 

‘‘It may be, mother, that your prayers 
have brought us the blessings of to-day.” 


V. 

POOR MADGE. 

STRANGE scene ! Intense excite- 
ment ! A stranger claims as her 
husband a gentleman well known in 
the community as the husband of a fashion- 
able modiste ! He denies the claim, but she 
insists upon her rights, and there are likely to 
be some startling revelations.” 

Such was the announcement preceding a 
detailed account of the strange scene. 

“ A plainly dressed woman, whose whole 
appearance was that of one accustomed to 
hard work and rough living, publicly accosted 
a gentleman priding himself upon his elegant 
attire and dashing manners. In the presence 



Poor Madge. 


79 


of a crowd of his associates, she asked him 
why he had left her for twelve years, to take 
care of herself and the children. She ad- 
dressed him by a name entirely different 
from that to which he answers here; but he 
had evidently heard it before, and the look of 
consternation upon his face was marvelous to 
behold. He swore that she was an utter 
stranger to him, but she claimed him as her 
husband, declaring that she could prove the 
truth of what she said.” 

The column here condensed, was intensely 
sensational ; and the evening cry of the news- 
boys, as they shouted : All about the man 
with two wives ! All about the woman that 
has come two hundred miles to find her hus- 
band !” was heard in every street and alley of 
the city. 

Madame R6nau heard it, wondering who 
were the parties concerned; and directly, the 
girl who answered the door-bell asked if she 


8o 


Our Homes, 


would see a coarsely dressed woman, who 
had called for* her. 

Yes, let her come up,” she replied, think- 
ing here might be another opportunity for 
helping a struggling soul. 

Good evening, madam. Please to be 
seated,” she said, as the stranger guest enter- 
ed the room in which she was sitting. 

“I’ll not sit down. It’s too fine a place 
for me,” answered the woman, glancing 
around her, as though unused to so much 
elegance. “ But they say you call him your 
husband ; him that belongs to me and the 
children. There’s five of us, and I’ve worked 
hard to keep them all together, and do 
for them what their father ought to have 
done.” 

“ My good woman, what are you talking 
about ? I don’t understand.” 

“You’re not to blame if you don’t. I 
know his smooth ways and black heart, vil- 


Poor Madge. 


8i 


lain that he is. It’s a French name he calls 
himself here, but he is just Timothy Tubbs, 
and I am Mrs. Tubbs, at your service, lady. 
Timothy don’t dress as he used to, but I’d 
know him among a thousand, and I’ve seen 
him to-day. It’s hard for you to hear it, 
lady, but I’ve the children and you haint.” 

‘‘ I have buried three children, beautiful 
babies, and it almost broke my heart ; but I 
am thankful now that they are safe.” 

“ Mine are as safe as I could make them, 
and my boys are good to me, but I longed 
for a sight of my husband. I thought, some 
way, ’twould rest me, but I wish now, I 
hadn’t come. If you love him and have had 
babies that he was the father of, may be I 
could do without him better than you can. 
He wouldn’t own me when I spoke to him, 
and I was that tried, I spoke right out before 
the gentlemen that was with him. I hadn’t 
ought to done it. He was awful mad with 


82 


Our Homes, 


me, same as I’ve seen him a good many 
times, and I’m sorry I troubled him so. It 
won’t do any good either. If he’s used to such 
things as these, he won’t never come to live 
with me, though, lady, my kitchen is as clean 
as hands can make it.” 

Madame Renau accepted her visitor’s state- 
ment as true. Strangely, it never occurred to 
her to doubt any part of it, and without con- 
sidering the disgrace in which she might be 
involved, she only thought that here might be 
a way of escape from the difficulties which had 
hedged her ’round. Again she invited her 
guest to be seated, and this time her invita- 
tion was accepted. 

She looked at the woman before her with 
feelings of mingled pity and respect. Al- 
phonse Renau was a more euphonious name 
than Timothy Tubbs; but he who answered 
to the one was no less selfish and brutal, than 
when he responded to the other. 


Poor Madge. 


83 


What do you propose to do, now that 
you have found your husband ?” asked Ma- 
dame, after a somewhat prolonged silence, in 
which she had taken a hasty retrospect of the 
last ten years. 

“ I don’t know ma’am. I didn’t think I’d 
find Timothy as he is, or I’d known he 
wouldn’t go home with me. He was always 
grander than I was, but I was a good wife to 
him. I was a poor girl, and so was he poor, 
but I worked hard to make things comfort- 
able for him, and when he’d let the liquor 
alone, he sometimes wa’n’t so bad. It was 
when I wouldn’t give him money I needed 
for the children, that he struck me, and I 
complained of him. That was what made 
him leave me. But I couldn’t help it, with 
my children hungry, and I not able to do a 
stroke of work, for the blow he gave me.” 

“ I should think you would have been glad 
never to see him again.” 


.84 


Our Homes. 


Yes, ma’am, you’d think so, and I’d think 
so, but when I heard where he was, the long- 
ing in my heart wouldn’t let me rest. I can’t 
tell how it is, but women like me, who don’t 
have anything to think of but their work and 
their families, don’t give up a man they’ve 
loved once, as easy as women do that study 
books, or paint pictures, or dress so nice that 
folks praise them for their good looks. I 
don’t know how it is, and I can’t rightly say 
it, but such as I be, are always going, back to 
the courting times. Timothy pretended to 
love me then, and seems as though, now, he 
couldn’t made it all. There wa’n’t one of my 
mates had a beau as handsome as he was, 
and I was that proud of him, I didn’t think 
about the liquor he drinked.” 

“ That is something every woman should 
think of The drinking habits of the men 
are the curse of the women.” 

“ True for yoU; ma’am, and the men ai’n’t 


Poor Madge, 


85 


alone in it. There’s women that drink, and 
there’s women, too, that eat opium to make 
them forget their troubles, but it only makes 
the bad worse.” 

Mr. Renau is coming up the stairs. Do 
you wish to see him ?” 

The question was asked too late. He hur- 
ried through the hall and rushed into their 
presence before reply could be made. 

You here, Madge !” he exclaimed with an 
oath, forgetting in his surprise, that he thus 
acknowledged his acquaintance with the wo- 
man he had denounced as an impostor and 
utter stranger. 

“Yes, Timothy, I’m here. I wanted to 
see you. I thought it would be a comfort to 
me, but I’m sorry I come and there was a 
pathos in the speaker’s voice, which would 
have touched any heart, less hard than that of 
him she addressed. 


86 


Our Homes. 


“ Get out of the house ! I had enough of 
you, years ago,” he retorted savagely. 

“You will stay as long as you please,” 
said her hostess, rising and going towards 
her. “ If paying the rent of a house, fur- 
nishing it, and providing for it gives title to 
it, then this is my house; and you, Mr. 
Tubbs, have no right here.” 

The scene which followed can never be de- 
scribed. The man thus brought to bay was 
maddened with drink, and desperate with the 
taunts of the rabble and the importunities of 
his creditors. The day had been crowded 
with discomfiture and mortification. His old 
associates held themselves aloof from him, 
and strangers were wary of him. Mr. Alden 
had passed him haughtily, and even the sa- 
loon keeper had refused to trust him for a 
single drink. 

His pockets were empty, and his wife was 
indifferent. For ten years, he had lived a 


Poor Madge. 


87 


life of careless self-indulgence at the expense 
of others, and the possibility that this life was 
ended quite distracted him. 

What he had intended to demand of her 
he called wife, he quite forgot, when he saw 
her companion. What he might have claimed 
from her, had he found her alone, he dared 
not claim in the presence of another. 

But his rage found vent in terrible oaths 
and imprecations ; in threats of violence, and 
curses upon both the dead and the living; 
while his distorted face and blood-shot 
eyes, gave him the appearance of a demon. 
It was evident, however, that he feared to 
match his physical strength against that of 
Madge, who wondered, as she looked at him, 
how she -could have thought it worth her 
while to come in search of such a monster. 

“ Fm sorry I come,” she more than once 
repeated. 

“ It is well that you came,” at length said 


88 


Our Homes. 


her hostess. “ I am glad that you came. I 
am glad to know that this man is not my 
husband.” 

Every word augmented the frenzy which 
was fast exhausting its victim, until at last he 
sunk to the floor, paralyzed by the intensity 
of his emotions. 

Then poor Madge sprang to him, pillowed 
his head in her lap, and smoothing back his 
hair, covered his brow with kisses. Wonder 
as she might, her love for him still survived ; 
but, submitted even to this test, the younger 
and fairer woman felt no return of tender- 
ness for him who had so embittered her 
life. 

He will die, and I have killed him !” said 
the faithful, long-suffering wife. “ I didn’t 
want to hurt him. I’m sorry I come and 
she burst into tears, which could not be re- 
pressed. 

He must be placed in bed and a physi- 


Poor Madge. 89 

cian called,” said Madame. “ He must not 
die for want of care.” 

Let me stay and nurse him, lady,” plead- 
ed the Aveeping woman. ‘‘ Let me stay. 
He belonged to me before he belonged to 
you, and if you’ll let me nurse him. I’ll 
go away and leave him to you when he’s 
stronger.” 

“You are welcome to stay,” was replied 
kindly. “You are more than welcome; and 
neither you nor your husband shall want for 
anything which money can buy.” 

“Thank you, dear lady. You, deserved 
better than you’ve had, but I’d do for you 
always for your kindness,” was responded to 
this assurance. 

A physician was summoned, who said at 
once that the man was beyond reach of hu- 
man skill. He might breathe a few hours, 
but he would never regain consciousness. 
Some general directions were given, and the 


90 


Our Homes. 


women left to their task of watching and 
waiting for the departure of an immortal soul 
from its tenement of clay. The heavy breath- 
ing of the doomed man was the only sound 
which broke the stillness, until Madame said 
to her companion softly : 

“ Shall I leave you, or do you prefer to 
have me remain ?” 

“ Would you mind going ?” was asked in 
reply. 

“ I have no wish to remain unless I can 
help you in some way. This man is your 
husband, not mine, and I relinquish to you 
all claim I thought I had upon him. You 
love him. I wish to do my duty to him and 
you.” 

“ Then leave me, lady. I’m used to watch- 
ing, and I’d be thankful to have him all to 
myself for a little while. If he’d only speak 
and say he forgives me. I’d be able to bear 
the rest. Lady, can you pray ? A prayer 


Poor Madge, 


91 


would help me so, and may be save him, now 
he can’t pray for himself, dear man. I aint 
used to praying, but I’ve wished many a 
time I was. My oldest boy can pray. I wish 
he was here to pray for his father. He 
didn’t want me to come, but when he see 
how set I was, he didn’t try to keep me. 
I’m sorry now that I come. I wish you 
could pray for him. Do, dear lady. You 
must have loved him once, and then there’s 
the babies belonging to you both.” 

What could the woman, thus entreated, 
do but fall upon her knees and pour out her 
heart in supplication to God. Her babies 
were safe, but their father had need of mercy. 
She prayed for the forgiveness of his sins ; 
prayed, too, for the wife who watched beside 
him ; that she might be comforted, and 
strengthened to bear all that was in store for 
her. Rising, the suppliant touched her lips 
to the forehead of her suffering sister, who. 


92 


Our Homes. 


with streaming eyes uplifted, looked into her 
face. 

“ I will leave you now, but if you pull 
this bell-rope I shall hear you, and will come 
to you directly,” she said softly, adding the 
benediction, “ May God bless you.” 

When morning dawned the man was dead ; 
and with her own hands, his wife, Madge, 
prepared his body for burial. She begged 
the privilege of doing this, and was not 
denied. 

She remained to the funeral, which was 
conducted in the most quiet manner ; tarried 
for one visit to the grave of her recreant hus- 
band, and then started homeward ; a sad, 
yet wiser woman for the experience she had 
gained. She had won a friend, where she 
feared to meet an enemy ; and sorrowed not 
only for herself, but for another, whose gene- 
rous kindness was past her comprehension. 


VI. 


A CHANGE OF NAME. 

LPHONSE RENAU was not. In- 
deed, there had been no such man ; 
only one claiming to be he, and now 
that this was understood, people wondered 
that they had not suspected something of the 
truth from his own appearance. 

How would Madame R^nau accept her 
position was a question which interested 
many, although no one presumed to ask her. 
She had no time to consider it until all was 
over, and she was forced to its consideration. 
The name she had so long borne grated 
harshly upon her ears, and yet, by what other 
should she be known ? As before, she went 
to Mr. and Mrs. Horton with her perplexi- 



94 


Our Homes, 


ties ; going at an early hour in the evening 
that she might break bread with them, and 
join them in their evening worship. 

“ We will pray over it,'’ said the good man, 
in answer to her request for advice. “We 
will pray over it, and see if we can obtain 
light in that way. Have you prayed ?” 

“ I have tried ; but people say that one 
must be a Christian, to pray acceptably, and 
I am not a Christian.” 

“Did you ask God to help you because 
you are so good, or because you are so 
needy ?” 

“ Why, Mr. Horton, of course it was be- 
cause I am needy. I have no goodness to 
bring before Him. I have been wrong, and 
selfish, and self-willed all my life. I begin to 
think I have been a very wicked woman. I 
expected to find all the happiness I desired 
with the man I called my husband. I forgot 
my dependence upon God, and my obligation 


A Change of Name. 95 

to serve Him. I believe that until within 
five weeks, I have never done anything to 
help anybody except myself and one other. 
I have lived a thoroughly selfish life.” 

“ Not more so than many others.” 

“ That is no excuse for me. I have been 
all wrong. If I did not neglect my mother, 
I was less considerate of her. than I should 
have been. O Mr. Horton, if I could only 
go back twelve years, how differently I would 
do !” 

“ That is impossible. But you can make 
your future life so rich in good deeds, and in 
love for God and Clirist, that it may be bet- 
ter and more useful than if it had run the 
even tenor of its way, without grave faults 
and great disappointments. God is able to 
overrule all things for good.” 

“ But if I am myself in fault ?”' 

“All are in fault; some in one way, and 
some in another. We have all sinned, and 


96 


Our Homes. 


all need forgiveness. We are weak and sin- 
ful, but God pities us. He knows all our 
temptations and all our infirmities, and He 
alone knows how to make just allowance for 
them. Let us pray.” 

The prayer which followed was not long. 
It was, indeed, but one petition ; a pleading 
for help — for light and guidance in a way 
shrouded in darkness. 

“ It came to me while you were praying,” 
said the guest, when they had risen from 
their knees. “ I had not thought of it defi- 
nitely before, but it seems to me now that I 
must take my maiden name, and be known 
as Miss Augusta Blaine. It will be unpleas- 
ant, and it will cause many awkward mis- 
takes, but I have no right to the title, ‘ Ma- 
dame Renau and besides, it is hateful to 
me. Perhaps it is wrong for me to feel so, 
but I wish I could put away everything 
which can remind me of the man who so 


A Change of Name. 


97 


cruelly deceived me. Yet I was somewhat 
to blame myself. I had wrong ideas of life. 
I refused to be governed by my mother’s 
counsels, and I was easily duped. I ought 
not to be too severe in my condemnation of 
another ; yet, as a wife, I think I did my whole 
duty. I certainly yielded to my husband in 
everything where yielding was possible. I 
lived and worked only for him.” 

“ In that way you did more than your 
duty,” replied Mrs. Horton. “ You sacrificed 
yourself entirely to him, and I hardly think 
it is a woman’s duty to quite forget herself” 
“ I forgot others, too,” was responded 
after a short silence. “ I forgot those around 
me, and I forgot God. I might have lived 
like a Christian, and so set an example for 
him to follow. I might have done that.” 

“You might have done it, but your sins 
of omission as well as of commission are be- 
tween you and God. You cannot go back, 
7 


Our Homes. 


but you can live a Christian’s life hereaf- 
ter.” 

“ I will try. I must try. That is the 
only way in which I can live at all. You 
will help me ? I could not go to any one 
else, as I have come to you and your hus- 
band.” 

“You can come to us at any time, and we 
will help you all we can. I am glad you 
think best to take your maiden name. It 
seems to me the right thing for you to do. 
How does it seem to you, husband ?” 

“ Like the right thing. It will be awk- 
ward at first, but people will soon become 
accustomed to it, and almost forget that they 
have known you by any other name.” 

“ I hope they will, and I hope that I shall 
prosper in my business, so that I can have a 
home, a real home ; a home where I can in- 
vite my friends, and where I can find peace 
and comfort for myself. Why, Mrs. Horton, 


A Change of Name, 


99 


for all these years, my house has been only a 
place where I stayed, and worked, and wor- 
ried, while another spent the money I earned, 
and found fault because there was no more 
of it. I can have a home, now, if I am 
alone.” 

Of course you can. Any woman can 
make a home for herself, and that is where 
we have the advantage of men. I once 
heard a gentleman say that, given a room 
twelve feet square, with bed, table, one chair, 
the smallest stove which can be used for 
cooking, a tin kettle, and a stew-pan, a wo- 
man would make a comfortable and even 
attractive home.” 

That would be making a home with 
very little, Mrs. Horton.” 

“ Very little, surely, and yet more than 
many poor women possess. It does not cost 
much to make a comfortable home, if one 
knows how to manage, and will be satisfied 


TOO 


Our Homes, 


with what can be had, without envying those 
who have more. In order to be thoroughly 
comfortable, one must be contented.” 

Yes, ‘Godliness with contentment is 
great gain,’” said Mr. Horton. 

“ But if we are contented with what we 
have, shall we ever try for anything better ?” 

“ Certainly we shall, if we have the right 
kind of contentment. True contentment is 
thankfulness for what we have when we have 
done our best. Home is a place where one 
can rest and forget the perplexities of the 
outside world. If there is only one in the 
home, that one must be at peace with God 
and with herself.” 

“ And she should help some other one to 
do as she has done in making a home for 
herself.” 

“ She could do no better work than that. 
Miss Blaine.” 

There was a sudden flushing of cheek and 


A Change of Name. loi 

brow as this name was heard, but she who 
was thus addressed answered quietly : 

“ If the homes of our country were what 
they should be, the people would soon be 
right.” 

“Yes, dear, all would be right; and she 
who helps to make one such home, does a 
greater work than she knows.” 

“ Then you and Mr. Horton have done a 
great work. You must have told a great 
many people how to make a comfortable 
home. You are just the ones everybody 
would come to for advice.” 

“ A good many have come. Husband and 
I were talking about it last evening, and we 
thought we ought to be very thankful for so 
many opportunities to help others. When we 
found our property was all gone, except 
enough to secure a small annuity while we 
live, we thought our usefulness was ended ; 
but we have learned since then that money, 


102 


Our Homes. 


or what costs money, is not always what 
people most need. We have not found it, 
in any way, such a hard thing to be poor. 
Counting pennies does not necessarily make 
a man or woman penurious. I think it has 
made us more generous.” 

“ I think so, too,” said Mr. Horton. “ At 
any rate it has made me admire my wife 
more than I ever did before. I hope I shall 
live long enough to know that she has taught 
some young women to economize in her nice 
ways.” 

To her own surprise. Miss Blaine became 
thoroughly interested in discussing the pro- 
saic subject of economy, and when she left 
for home, it was with something like impa- 
tience to put in practice the lessons she had 
learned. 

The next day the door-plate, on which was 
engraved the old name, was exchanged for 
another, notifying the passers-by that Au- 


A Ckanje of Name, 103 

gusta Blaine had leased die premises. Her 
customers observed this, but it was not until 
requested to do so, that they addressed her as 
other than Madame Renau. 

Miss Blaine, if you please,” she would 
say^ quietly, and proceed to talk of whatever 
was under consideration. 

She chose Amy Darrah to inform those 
who worked for her of this change of name, 
and make whatever explanations were neces- 
sary. This was done so kindly, and with 
such an evident desire for their sympathy and 
assistance, that Miss Blaine was likely to be 
far more popular than as Madame Renau she 
could ever have been. 

I am afraid I used to blame her too 
much,” said a pale-faced girl. “ I thought 
she could have everything, while I could only 
have enough to keep soul and body together, 
and she seemed almost to grudge me even 
that. But mother says we don’t know oth- 


104 


Our Homes. 


ers’ troubles as we do our own, and I think a 
drinking husband, rich or poor, is the worst 
trouble any woman can have. I am sorry for 
her ; and to think, too, that she was not mar- 
ried at all !” 

“ It is all the same to her now, but if he 
had lived, she must have been glad to know 
that she could be free from him,” remarked 
another. “ It will be hard to remember the 
new name, but the new nature will help us. 
She has not seemed like Madame Renau 
lately. She is ever so much pleasanter and 
easier to be suited, and she treats us as 
though we were something a little better than 
machines. I have begun to wonder what will 
happen next.” 

“You need wonder no longer; for what- 
ever happens will surely be good,” rejoined 
the third. 

A few more comments were made, and 
then work went on in the old routine, only 


A Change of Name, 105 

that since Bessie Darrah had come among 
them, the workers seemed to have caught 
something of her cheerful, energetic spirit. 

am sure I shall never complain of hard 
work,’' she said to her mother, one evening, 
after her achievements of the day had elicited 
the warmest praises of her companions. I 
never hurry if I can well avoid it, but I 
always remember that Aunt Prissy said : 
‘ Work fast, and you will be through the 
sooner.’ ” 

“ But some people are naturally slow and 
heavy in all their movements,” replied Mrs. 
Darrah. 

“ I suppose they are, but I shall never be- 
lieve that it is necessary to wait half a minute 
after putting one foot down, before you take 
up the other, or to stop long enough to count 
three between two stitches. Slow people are 
very tiresome, and I am thankful that what- 
ever I can do at all, I can do quickly.” 


io6 


Our Homes. 


“ It is something you should be thankful 
for, but when you were a little girl, I should 
have been glad if you had sometimes moved 
more slowly.” 

I presume you would, mother, for I can 
remember when you used to tell me I was 
out of one mischief and into another faster 
than you could keep track of me. But there 
is no use in dilly-dallying. If work is unpleas- 
ant, the sooner it is out of the way the better, 
and if it is pleasant, there is no reason for 
dreading it. Miss Blaine has some very slow 
workers, although their work is always ex- 
quisitely done.” 

“Your work is probably different from 
theirs. Trimmings can be quickly arranged.” 

“Yes, mother, but I can do something be- 
sides arrange trimmings. Thanks to Aunt 
Prissy, I can piece and mend in artistic 
fashion.” 

“ I guess you can, else I shouldn’t had my 


A Change of Name. 107 

warm jacket,” said Frale, wondering a little 
at the meaning of '‘artistic,” yet sure it was 
something nice, because his sister had said 
it. “ Mine is the warmest of any of the boys, 
and it’s handsome too. I like it, and I wish 
you’d make jackets for some of the boys that 
come ragged to Sunday School. There’s 
such a lot of poor ones, I don’t suppose they 
can get enough things to go all ’round. The 
ladies are going to meet in the small class- 
room to make things for the scholars, and I 
told my teacher I wished you could go, be- 
cause you could make real nice things out of 
nothing but bundles of rags.” 

“Why Frale, how could you say that?” 
exclaimed Bessie. 

“There, that is just what John said,” re- 
plied the child. ‘‘ I don’t see what makes you 
both talk so. I told the truth, and when I 
showed her how my jacket is pieced, she said 
it was done real beautiful.” 


to8 Our Homes, 

“ O Frale Darrah, how could you do that ! 
It is no matter how much your clothes are 
pieced and darned, if nobody knows it. Don’t 
ever do so again.” 

“ You have done nothing so very bad, only 
it is better not to tell what your sisters can 
do,” said Amy kindly, thus comforting her 
brother, who was grieved, at being blamed. 
‘'You shall have a new jacket some time.” 

“ I don’t care about a new one,” he re- 
sponded with a smile. “ John needs one the 
most, because he wears his out working, and 
I am so little I can’t work much.” 

“ I didn’t tell you, but Mr. Clayter told me, 
to-day, he would give me a dollar a week 
more than he offered me before, if I would 
work for him,” said John, who had seemed to 
be in a brown study ever since he came home. 
“ I thought I wouldnk tell you, but I guess I 
shall feel better if I do. He said he should 
think I would be sick of jobbing ’round.” 


A Change of Name. 109 

What did you say to him ?” asked Mrs. 
Darrah. 

I told him I wouldn’t sell liquor any soon- 
er than I would drink it, and I would steal as 
quick as I would do either. He said the boy 
that had been working for him would steal 
and get drunk, both, and he wanted me be- 
cause he thought I was honest. He told me 
at last that I needn’t sell any liquor ; that he 
could find enough to keep me busy at some- 
thing else. Then I told him I could keep 
myself busy, and he was mad at me ; but I 
can get along without any of his help. I know 
the boy that has been in his saloon, and I 
don’t wonder he drinks and steals. He don’t 
know what it is to have a decent home. 
He used to be always out in the street, 
trying to find a warm corner in winter, and a 
shady one in summer. There is somebody 
more to blame than he is.” 

'‘Are you acquainted with him, John ?” 


I lO 


Our Homes, 


“Not really, mother, because you always 
told me not to have anything to do with such 
boys; but since he went to work for Mr. 
Clay ter I have watched him. He hasn’t had 
a cent of money for himself. His father has 
drank up his wages, and his mother is a 
dreadful dirty, tired-looking woman. There 
are four children younger than Brown, and 
he always looks half starved ; with his 
forehead pulled down over his eyes, as 
though he felt ugly, and I don’t wonder he 
does.” 

“ How do you know so much about him ?” 
now asked Amy a little anxiously. 

“ Well, I will tell you all about it, and I 
hope you won’t blame me, because I couldn’t 
do any different, unless I left him to freeze 
and starve. I found him hid away behind a 
pile of wood I was going to carry into a shed, 
and I could not help speaking to him, could 
I Amy, when he was feeling so bad?” 


A Change of Name, 


1 1 1 


“ It would have been very unkind not to 
speak to him.” 

“ Of course it would, and he half frozen too. 
He said his father drove him out of the house, 
and told him never to come back, and he 
didn’t know what to do. He only stole ten 
cents to buy gingerbread for his brothers and 
sisters, because they were so hungry.” 

“ Perhaps he didn’t tell you the truth.” 

I know perhaps he didn’t, but I believe 
he did. I believe what he said. I should want 
somebody to believe me, if I was such a poor 
fellow as he is. Why, Amy, he has just been 
kicked ’round until almost all the good has 
been kicked out of him. I think there is a 
little left, but I don’t believe there would be a 
bit left in me if I was in his place.” 

Where is he now?” 

“ In the old hogshead in the shed. There 
was some straw in it, and he said he had 
slept in colder places. I thought, per- 


I 12 


Our Homes. 


haps, you would let him have an old blan- 
ket” 

What did he have to eat to-day ?” asked 
Frale. 

“ What he earned. I hired him to work 
for me, and paid him out of the baker’s 
shop.” 

“ My, wouldn’t he like such hot soup as we 
had for supper ! Can’t you give him some, 
Bess? You said it didn’t cost much, and I 
wish you’d give him my share. I will eat 
bread without a speck of butter, or a drop 
of milk, if you will give him some soup. 
May be he isn’t real good, but how can he 
be, when he hasn’t got any good mother or 
sisters to. tell him what to do ?” 

Frale was logical in his estimate of the 
boy’s accountability ; far more so than many 
a man, who, holding all to his own standard, 
makes no allowance for circumstances or sur- 
rounding influences. 


A Change of Name, 1 13 

“ The boy in the hogshead shall have a 
warm supper ; but it is too bad for him to 
spend the night in such a place. Mother, 
isn’t it possible for us to give him a better 
shelter?” asked Bessie. 

“It would be of no use to try/’ said John, 
before his mother could reply to this ques- 
tion. I asked him if he couldn’t go to 
some house, and he said he would rather 
stay there. He has an old shawl one of his 
brothers dropped out of the window to him, 
and this isn’t the first time he has slept in a 
barrel. His father has driven him out of the 
house a good many times before.” 

“ Poor fellow ! I don’t much blame him 
for stealing ten cents. What is his name ?” 

Brown Beech. When the boys called to 
him it sounded so queer, it made me notice 
him.” 

“ It is an odd name, but odd or even, he 

shall have some soup, and Frale can have 
8 


Our Homes, 


114 

some for breakfast too. Thank God — and I 
say it reverently — we can afford to feed one 
hungry boy for a day or two. It is dreadful 
to be so poor as we were only a few weeks 
ago, but what I learned then will do me 
good as long as I live.” 

It will do us all good. We shall be the 
richer for it,” responded Amy. 

How can that be ?” asked John, to whom 
the philosophy of comparative riches was not 
yet quite plain. 

“A little will be more to us now than a 
great deal would have been before we learn- 
ed to spend money to the best advantage. 
Perhaps we have not learned it all yet, but if 
we can get just as much comfort and happi- 
ness with ten dollars, as we could once 
with twenty, don’t you see that we are 
richer?” 

“ Of course I do,” answered John. “ When 
we can get a good dinner for ten cents that 


A Change of Name. 1 1 5 

might have' cost twenty, we are just as well 
off as if we really had twenty cents and 
didn’t know what we know now. But then 
I should like to double my money, so I could 
help somebody else, or buy a new book once 
in a while.” 

“You can help somebody else to-night, 
and when we have saved ten dollars, you 
shall have the next dollar to buy a new book. 
We have added a barrel of flour and a ton of 
coal to our stores since that dreadful morn- 
ing, when I thought I had come to the end 
of all things.” 

While this conversation was transpiring, 
a generous supply of soup had been placed 
on the stove, and presently John carried it 
to Brown Beech, carrying also a quilt, for 
which he was even more thankful than for 
the soup, although that was “best of any- 
thing.” 

The mother, and the brothers and sis- 


Our Homes. 


1 16 

ters wondered where Brown would sleep, 
that night, but the father only thought of his 
son as having cheated him of a daily supply 
of whiskey. 


VII. 


BROWN BEECH. 

ROWN ! Brown ! Are you awake ? 
I want you.” 

This call, uttered in a loud whis- 
per, elicited a quick response. 

“Yes, sir. I’ll be therein a minute.” 

“ I rather think you will need some help 
to get here,” whispered John Darrah, and by 
that time Brown Beech began to compre- 
hend the situation. 

“ I forgot where I was,” he said, unrolling 
himself from the quilt and standing upon his 
feet. “ I slept tip-top. That soup warmed 
me clear to my toes, and I just popped off in 
no time.” 

“ I am glad of it. Now give me your hand. 



ii8 


Our Homes, 


Bess called me, and said you must get out of 
this before anybody sees you, and we want 
you to come and have breakfast with us.” 

“ I aint fit to eat breakfast with you, and I 
can’t. I just want to keep ’round some where 
till father gets off, and then I’m going to see 
mother and tell her good-bye.” 

“ Where are you going ?” 

“ I don’t know certain, but it wont do for 
me to stay ’round where father is. I can’t get 
ahead any, no matter what I do, if he takes 
all I earn. If I can get started somewhere, 
I might send for the rest, if father was out 
of the way. It wouldn’t do to kill him ; 
’though I don’t see why, for he aint any good 
to anybody, any more than snakes and spiders. 
Perhaps he’ll die, and then I’ll be all right. 
Now you take the quilt, and I’ll get off before 
anybody comes.” 

“ But your breakfast. Brown. You must 
come with me, if you only go into the back 


Brown Beech, 


119 

store-room, where there isn't anything but a 
table and a chair. You come, and I will 
bring you some warm water and some soap, 
so you can have a good wash. You can have 
your breakfast there if you want to, though 
I don’t believe you will, after you get washed. 
Now come and help me shake the straw out 
of this quilt. I can’t do it very well alone. 
Give me your hand, old fellow.” 

Thus urged. Brown could not longer re- 
fuse. A good wash and a warm breakfast 
were temptations too strong for him to resist. 
He was soon outside the hogshead, shaking 
himself and helping to shake the quilt by 
star-light. 

“ Now follow me,” said John in a low tone, 
and they crept cautiously into the house. 

Perhaps none of my readers have ever 
thought of soap and water as luxuries ; yet 
many have counted them as such ; and to 
the boy who now, perhaps, for the first time 


120 


Our Homes, 


in his life was mindful of his personal appear- 
ance, they were more than luxuries. Clean 
towels, too ; and when, after his ablutions, he 
had combed his hair with an old comb he 
carried in his pocket, he would hardly have 
recognized himself, except for the hole in the 
elbow of his jacket. 

He had never entered a room so pleasant 
as Mrs. Darrah’s kitchen; never seen a table 
so nicely laid as that to which he was invited. 
He knew not what to say or do, only to eat 
in the most awkward manner what was given 
to him. But he was grateful, and his grati- 
tude was the one redeeming quality covering 
many defects. 

He was shy of revealing either his wishes 
or his plans ; yet as John was preparing to 
go out, he said, confidentially, that he had 
thought of applying for work at a woollen 
mill about six miles from the city. He didn’t 
believe his father would ever think of looking 


Brown Beech. 


I2I 


for him there, and perhaps he could manage 
to help his mother and the children more 
than if he was further off. 

‘‘ There are lots of boys work there, and 
their faces are all kinds of colors,” he con- 
tinued. “They look awful dirty, and you 
couldn’t stand it there ; but I shouldn’t mind 
the color, because, you see, that would keep 
father from knowing me. I’ll tell them my 
middle names instead of Brown Beech, and 
then there can’t anybody know who I am.” 

“ What are your middle names ?” 

“ John Doane. You see my father wanted 
to call me one name, and my mother, two 
others ; so that is how I come to have so 
many.” 

“ When did you think of all this ?” 

“ Yesterday, when I was behind the wood, 
and last night, before you brought me the 
quilt and the soup. I’m going out to the 
mill, to-day, and if I get a job I’ll let you 


122 


Our Homes, 


know. I feel so good, now ; seems as 
though I could do ’most anything after I’ve 
seen mother and the children. My mother 
aint like yours. I wish she was ; but she’s 
all I’ve got, and I must make the best of 
her. I guess she’d do different if father was 
dead.” 

How wretched must be the child whose 
only hope of prosperity and happiness is 
dependent upon a father’s death ! Yet there 
are thousands — I had almost said millions — 
of children in our land, whose very existence 
is a curse ; made thus by those who are re- 
sponsible for their existence. 

Brown Beech was ignorant, but he was 
not stupid. He knew that the poverty and 
suffering, of which he had seen so much in 
his short life, was caused by the use of alco- 
holic drinks ; and from his very soul he 
loathed and detested them. He had sold 
them for his employer; sold, too, vile de- 


Brown Beech, 


123 


coctions in which alcohol had no part, but 
which had the requisite pungency to please 
-beggarly customers. Once he had tried to 
quiet the cravings of hunger with this drink, 
and then, for the only time in his life, he 
had been intoxicated. 

He had told John Darrah all about it, as 
they worked together, the previous day ; 
solemnly pledging himself that, come what 
might to him, he would never taste another 
drop of the abominable stuff This pledge 
he reiterated in the morning with even 
greater emphasis, and as he bade his friend 
good-bye, said tearfully : 

I hope I shall die before I break my 
pledge.” 

“I hope so, too,” replied John. “You will 
be sure to be a drunkard if you ever drink 
at all, because boys who have drunkards for 
fathers are more likely to be drunkards 
themselves.” 


124 


Our Homes, 


“ I know it,” answered Brown. I know it 
better than you do, and a man will half kill 
his boy for getting drunk, when he gets drunk 
himself right along. Such a man aint fit to 
be called father, anyway. I wish such men 
were all dead. If they were, there might be 
a chance for the children and their mothers. 
I tell you, I haint lived ’most thirteen years 
with a drunkard without finding out how 
things go. I know a good many boys, too, 
worse off than I’ve been, because we never 
had to live in an old wet cellar. We’ve always 
had a little bit of sunshine in our room some- 
times, and that’s better than a dark, poky 
hole where you can’t half see. But I’m keep- 
ing you. I’ll let you know how I make out. 
Good-bye.” 

Poor Mrs. Beech looked worse than ever 
that morning. Her clothing was more soiled 
and more ragged. Her room was in greater 
disorder than usual. A broken chair occu- 


Brown Beech, 


125 


pied a conspicuous position, so that, when 
Brown crept slyly in, it was not necessary to 
tell him of his father’s fury. 

“ I sent the children off out of his way, and 
just sat down and waited,” said Mrs. Beech. 
“ I didn’t care if he killed me. I wish he 
had.” 

‘‘ Don’t talk so, mother. I’m going to try 
and make things better for you,” whispered 
the boy. 

You needn’t whisper. He’s in there, on 
the bed, and judgment wouldn’t wake him 
now,” she replied in a loud tone. “But you 
can’t do anything against him. I know that. 
I wish I hadn’t a child in the world. I do. 
Brown, for all you’ve mostly been good to me. 
Aint you hungry ? I guess you must be, but 
I haint anything to give you to eat.” 

“ I aint hungry,” responded Brown, but he 
did not tell her of his new friend. 

He could not waste time in explanations. 


126 


Our Homes, 


He had a long walk before him, and he was 
impatient to be on his way. 

“ Don’t try to find me, mother. When I 
can help you you’ll see me. If you move, 
tell the old woman, up-stairs, that never 
moves, and I’ll hunt you up. Good-bye.” 

Mrs. Beech was too much surprised even 
to say good-bye. She did not believe that 
Brown had really left her. He would come 
again, at night, and she would ask him why 
he had spoken in this manner. 

Brushing the tears from his eyes, he went 
out into the street, and for a moment looked 
around upon familiar scenes. Then with, 
perhaps, a prayer in his heart, which was to 
him only an unuttered longing for help and 
guidance, he walked on rapidly. Before 
going far, John Darrah called him and he 
turned aside. 

“ Hav’n’t you any clothes to take with 
you T asked John. 


Brown Beech, 


127 


No,” was the laconic reply. 

Hav’n’t you any dinner?” 

No, and I haint any money to buy it 
either, but Til find somebody that’ll let me do 
a job, and pay me in something to eat. I’ll 
take anything ; cold potatoes or bread crusts. 
I aint particular ; and after such a breakfast, I 
won’t be much hungry again to-day.” 

‘‘You will need some dinner after your 
long walk, and I have just earned ten cents, 
I am going to lend you. That will buy a 
dinner.” 

“Thank you. But if I can earn my din- 
ner?” 

“ Earn it, and take the ten cents to pay for 
a decent place to sleep in. Good-bye and 
good luck to you.” 

“ Good-bye, old fellow. You’ve done more 
for me than anybody else ever did, and you 
shall have your pay if I live.” 

Now Brown Beech was fairly started, and 


128 


Our Homes, 


it was wonderful what a sense of security he 
felt in the possession of a dime. He did not 
intend to spend it for either dinner or lodg- 
ing, but he could do with it as he pleased. 

As he left the city limits, a man drove past 
him with a large wagon filled with bundles 
and boxes of various sizes. Just then a wheel 
of the wagon struck some obstruction and a 
bundle was thrown out. This he observed, 
and picking it up, shouted at the top of his 
voice to give notice of the loss, but his shouts 
were unheeded. 

He looked at the direction, and saw that it 
was to be delivered at the very mill to which 
he was going. He would deliver it, and so 
introduce himself ; and as he thought that, 
possibly, he might thus gain favor where he 
so much desired it, he pressed forward with 
new energy. He was a poor friendless boy, 
with empty hands and empty pockets, when 
he left his mother that morning. Now he 


Brown Beech. 


129 


was an express messenger, with money in his 
pocket. 

He reached the mill as the wagon was 
leaving, and when the driver caught sight of 
the bundle in his liand, he was greeted with 
an angry exclamation. 

“Where did you get hold of that?” was 
asked sharply. 

“ It jumped, out of your wagon, and I pick- 
ed it up,” replied Brown. “ I called loud as 
I could, but I guess you didn’t hear me. So 
I brought it, and here it is, just as I found it, 
only I brushed off the dirt.” 

“ You’ve done well, boy; better than most 
would, poor as you look to be. Here’s some 
money for you;” and the speaker threw down 
a silver quarter which Brown declined taking. 

“ It didn’t cost me anything to bring it, sir, 
and I don’t want to be paid for no job at all.” 

“ Never mind that. Take the money. 

Somebody might have lost a good deal, if it 
9 


130 


Our Homes, 


hadn’t come all right. Take the quarter and 
buy yourself a good, square meal. You don’t 
look as if you had had one lately.” 

I had a good breakfast, this morning, but 
I’ve been hungry enough before that, and I 
come up here, to see if I could get a job in 
the mill.” 

“ Then, perhaps, I can give you a lift 
about that. Take this bundle over to the 
tall young man standing by that pile of lum- 
ber, and tell him how you came by it. Then 
tell him why you came here, and I shouldn’t 
wonder if he proves to be just the one you 
want. He is always on the lookout for a 
chance to help somebody, and if you can get 
the right side of him, you wont need to go 
any further.” 

Do you mean the man that’s so hand- 
some, with the blue blouse and overalls 
on ?” 

“ Yes, I mean just him, and if you have a 


Brown Beech. 


131 

story to tell, he is the one to hear it ; only 
be sure to tell him the whole truth.” 

“ Yes, sir, thank you,” and Brown wished 
he had time to consider the proposed change 
of names. 

But he did not stop for this. He delivered 
the package, saying, as he did so : 

‘‘ Here is a bundle for you, sir. It jumped 
out of the expressman’s wagon "when he 
didn’t know it, and I picked it up, and he 
told me to give it to you.” 

Where did you find it T 

Back by the big stone house.” 

“ And did you walk all this distance to 
bring it ?” 

I was coming here, sir, to see if I could 
get a job of work. I want to work and earn 
my living. The expressman said you liked 
to help folks and if you’ll help me. I’ll be 
the gladdest boy that ever was. I mean if 
you’ll help me get a job.” 


132 


Our Homes. 


“What can you do ?” 

“ I don’t know, because I haint had a 
chance, but Fd try to do anything, only sell 
liquor. Fd starve before Fd do that.” 

“Then I hope you never drink it.” 

“ I never shall again, because Fve promised 
not to, true as I live, and hoped Fd die 
first, so I can’t.” 

“ Where is your home ? Where do you 
live ? I have some work to do back of the 
mill, and you can come along with me as 
soon as I leave this package in the office. 
You can tell me your story while I work, 
and perhaps you can help me at the same 
time.” 

“ Brown felt then thrown entirely upon his 
own resources. He was away from his father ; 
a stranger, to be judged by the words he, 
himself, should speak. But he had no time to 
pursue this train of thought. 

“Tell me your name, so that I may know 


Brown Beech, 


133 


what to call you,” said the gentleman beside 
him. 

“Fve got four names, and I want to tell 
you the two most folks don’t know anything 
about,” was replied with some hesitation. 

“Tell me the whole four;” and the tone in 
which this direction was given left the boy no 
choice. 

“ And you wish to change from two to 
other two. Tell me why.” 

I will not recount the story then told. 
Sharp questions were asked and answered 
while work went on. Brown showed him- 
self able to do a boy’s part, and before night 
he was assigned to a place in the mill where 
he could earn his board, with the assurance 
that he would soon be able to earn good 
wages. A boarding-place was found for him, 
and although he would have preferred to save 
money at the expense of his own comfort, he 
was not allowed to do so. It was necessary 


134 


Our Homes, 


that he should live comfortably, in order to 
work regularly and well. 

He was now fairly established in a new 
position, answering to the name, “ John 
Beech,” and in three days so changed in his 
looks, that his own mother would not have 
recognized him. He even thought of visit- 
ing her on Sunday, but he found that the day 
was already appropriated. He was expected 
to go to the chapel and listen to a sermon 
in the morning, and in the afternoon, to at- 
tend Sunday School. 

“Mr. Arms will have you do it, or he’ll 
not go surety for you, and when you’ve once 
been, you’ll not be willing to stay away,” 
said the woman with whom he boarded. “It’s 
better to hear Mr. Arms than to hear the 
minister, but it’s all good. We’d be heathen 
but for him, and he’s the finest gentleman in 
the place ; finer than them that owns it all, and 
he just begun at the bottom, same as you.” 


Brow7i Beech, 


135 


“Did he ever do the work I do ?” asked 
John. 

“Sure he did. IVe seen him blue and 
brown as you. He has done all kinds ; 
worked right through the mill, and learned 
books, too ; same as the minister. We’re all 
that proud of him. He belongs to us, and 
we’d stand by him anywhere. You’re luckier 
than you know in having him for a friend. I 
wouldn’t took a strange lad into my house 
but for him.” 



VIIL 


WILTON ARMS. 

EARS before it had been a flourish- 
ing Mission School, although it had 
long ago outgrown this- title. When 
Arms was old enough to take charge 
of it, it became independent and self-support- 
ing, except so far as aided by the owners of 
the mill, in whose employ were most of the 
people living in the neighborhood. 

Money thus invested brought them good 
returns, as they willingly acknowledged. 
Sober, temperate men and women could be 
trusted to do a class of work, quite impossi- 
ble to the intemperate and vicious. 

Wilton Arms was the son of a poor man 
with a large family, and therefore early 



Wilton Arms, 


137 


inured to habits of industry. But he was an 
uncommon boy. He was quick to learn; his 
head controlling his hands, and his large, 
sympathetic heart holding sway over all. 

His home was plain and unpretending. 
His mother was a plain woman, with little of 
culture gained from books; yet there was 
one book she had studied all her life. The 
Bible had been her constant companion, and 
her children were early taught its precepts. 
They listened to its stories, learned its poems^ 
and could quote its proverbs before they could 
read. 

There may have been something of stern- 
ness in the family discipline ; but there was no 
slavish fear of the father who had never been 
known to fail of his duty at home or at work. 
Wilton was his eldest child, to whom he 
could give fewer advantages of education 
than his younger children enjoyed. 

The father had worked all his life, doing 


Our Homes. 


138 

the same thing day after day. The son could 
take the raw material, as it was brought to 
the mill in huge sacks, and carry it through 
every process until baled and marked, ready 
for market. His ability to do this had been 
proved, while now he had a general over- 
sight of the business which was growing 
upon his hands. 

He was popular with all ; from those who 
deferred to his judgment as to the style of 
goods to be manufactured, to those with 
whom he mingled, wearing a workman’s 
blouse, and leading Avhere they were sure to 
follow. 

People in the city, too, were beginning to 
hear of him, as a Sunday School worker, and 
as a strong temperance man. Several at- 
tempts had been made to establish a drinking 
saloon in the neighborhood, but, thanks to 
his influence, these attempts had signally 
failed. 


proud of his personal appearance. H e was t: 
straight, with a general physique many envi< 
and a face ' which, when lighted up unc 
genial influences, would distract attention fn 
any words he might utter. 

If he was only rich ! If he had not be 
a common worker in the mill ! If he did r 
live in the low-browed cottage which was ( 
before the mill had been built ! 

How much was included in these ifs 
would be difficult to tell. Yet much or 
tie, he held the even tenor of his way, as 
spectful to his parents as when he was a b( 
and loving the cottage home, to which j 
ditions had been made from time to tir 


140 


Our Homes, 


until nooks and angles and sunny windows 
had made it really picturesque. 

Such was the man whose sympathies had 
been enlisted for John Beech, and who, while 
holding the boy under strict watch, gave him 
constant proof of his friendship. 

“Now you belong to us sure,” said Mr. 
Arms, one morning, as they met in the mill 
yard. “You wear our colors, and we shall 
expect you to be loyal to our interests.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied John with a smile, al- 
though he did not understand the full import 
of the remarks. 

It was Saturday when he received his first 
wages, and he asked permission to go to the 
city in the morning to visit his mother and 
sisters. 

“ I want to help them,” he said. 

“ But you need some new clothes, and it 
will take more money than you have to pay 
for them.” 


Wilton Arms, 


141 


** But I don’t mind about the clothes, Mr. 
Arms. My mother’ll think I’m dead, or else 
that I’ve forgot her, and I don’t want she 
should. My little sisters too. They aint nice, 
as a good many other boys have, but they’re 
mine. And besides, Mr. Arms, I owe a boy 
ten cents. He lent me ten cents, the morn- 
ing I started to come up here, and he’d helped 
me before, though he’s so poor, he hunts 
’round for jobs, same as the rest. But then, 
he’s different. He’s got a home as is a home. 
I had a breakfast there, and I want to pay 
him ten cents.” 

“ What if your father sees you ?” 

I don’t believe he’d know me if he did. 
But I don’t mean to have him see me. I’ve 
shyed ’round out of his sight lots of times. I 
know how to do it, and please, sir, my heart 
aches to see mother.” 

“But your clothes. It is coming warm 
weather, so you can manage with blouse and 


142 


Our Homes. 


pants, but you must be decent for Sun- 
days/’ 

‘‘ I haint been decent yet, have I, Mr. 
Arms?” 

“We won’t say anything about that, my 
boy. I believe you have done the best you 
could since you came here. I have trusted 
you, John.” 

“ I know it sir, I know it,” and here the 
boy burst into tears. “ There never but one 
trusted me before, and he’ll be looking for 
me. Please sir, seems as though I must 

“You may go,” was replied, and then re- 
membering that he was to speak in a mission 
chapel in the city, Sunday evening, Mr. Arms 
made an appointment with John to meet him 
there. 

John Beech was by no means what would 
be considered a good boy. He had been 
trained to habits of deception. His language 
was often coarse, and sometimes profane. 


Wilton Arms. 


143 


But upon two things he was resolved : never 
to sell or drink intoxicating liquor, and never 
to abandon his mother and sisters. In the 
city, a miserable drunkard claimed him as 
“ my boy.” Here, the man whom all loved 
and delighted to honor thus addressed him. 
Henceforth he would think of himself as Mr. 
Arms’ boy. 

By the generosity of this friend his board 
had been paid in part, so that he retained a 
small amount of his wages, with which he 
could assist his mother. “ I’ll pay back every 
cent,” said the boy to himself, as he started 
on his long walk. When he neared the city 
he quickened his steps, half hoping and half 
fearing as to the result of his visit. First 
he must see the friend who had loaned him 
ten cents ; and after some delay, he gained 
courage to go up the back stairs and rap at 
the kitchen door, which was opened by Frale, 
who started back in affright. 


144 


Otir Homes. 


“Who is it?” asked John, coming himself 
to the door. 

“ It’s Brown Beech,” was replied in a loud 
whisper. “ I come to pay you the ten cents. 
I haint spent it, but I want to keep it and pay 
you another.” 

“Well, I never should have thought of its 
being you,” said John, too much surprised to 
care for ten cents. “ Come in.” 

“ I aint fit. I didn’t try to get off the blue, 
for fear father would know me. But I want- 
ed to see you.” 

“ I want to see you. Come into the little 
back room. The moon shines in there, and 
it isn’t cold.” 

This invitation was accepted, and for the 
next half hour the two boys talked with great 
animation. 

“ Why, that is where we go,” exclaimed 
John Darrah, when told where his com- 
panion was to meet Mr. Arms the next even- 


Wilton Arms. 


145 


ing. They say the man who is going to 
talk is splendid.” 

“ You1l think so when you Ve heard him. 
He’s the best man — I guess — in the world. 
He’s just as nice and pleasant as he can be ; 
but I tell you that the fellow that tries to cheat 
him will wish he hadn’t. Seems as though he 
knows everything I do, no matter where I am. 
He paid part of my board, so I could have a 
little money for myself and to help mother 
with. But if I spent a cent of it for what I 
hadn’t ought to, I shouldn’t ever dare to speak 
to him again. I must manage some way to 
see mother. Who sells liquor for Clayter ?” 

“ A poor little fellow who hates his work. 
I know that, because I heard him say so, but 
his father keeps him there.” 

“ What do you suppose makes such awful 
wicked fathers ?” 

The wicked liquor they drink.” 

“ Why don’t they let it alone ?” 

10 


146 


Our Homes. 


“ Because, after they once begin, there 
don’t seem to be any place for them to stop. 
There is a gnawing in their stomach all the 
time. I can’t explain it, only I know it is 
ten thousand times easier never to touch it, 
than it is to give it up after you have once be- 
gun to drink it. Don’t you ever taste of it.” 

“ I won’t. Never, never. Mr. Arms 
wouldn’t let me stay in the mill if I did. He 
won’t have any liquor sold near there.” 

‘‘ How can he help it ?” 

“ I can’t tell you, but you’ll know when 
you’ve heard him talk.” 

“ I will be sure to hear him.” 

So said many others, and the chapel was 
crowded before the hour appointed for the 
meeting. 

There were well-dressed ladies and gentle- 
men ; with poor men and women, wearing 
coarse and worn garments ; boys who had 
been well taught sitting side by side with 


Wilton Arms. 


147 


those who had grown up in the street, with- 
out instruction save in the ways of wicked- 
ness. There were young girls there too ; 
some fair and sweet, and some pale and 
haggard. It would have seemed a strange 
audience to one unaccustomed to such meet- 
ings ; but, thank God, there are occasions 
when the rich and poor meet together, remem- 
bering that the Lord is the Maker of them all. 

This was the thought uppermost in the 
mind of Wilton Arms, as he looked around 
upon those before him : “ The Lord is the 

Maker of them all.” 

It does not matter how far removed from 
each other people may seem to be ; how much 
of generous culture may contrast with the 
veriest ignorance, or how much of elegance 
may make squalor and poverty the more re- 
pulsive ; it is an everlasting truth that God has 
made of one flesh all who dwell upon the face of 
the earth. The most gifted and most highly 


148 


Our Homes. 


favored have only what is received from the 
hands of infinite beneficence. 

How the soul of the young man thrilled 
with the longing to help the poor and wretch- 
ed whose eager faces were upturned to him ! 
How he longed to impress the prosperous 
and happy with a sense of their responsibility ! 

Here was the secret of his persuasive elo- 
quence, as he entreated all to live at their 
best ; to cast aside unworthy habits and make 
the most of opportunities which God had 
given them. He bade them remember that 
they were citizens of a glorious country, where 
the poorest man may rise to an honored 
position, and where, sooner or later, true 
merit is sure of recognition. 

The Bible is our text book. The Bible is 
our guide, and they who follow its teachings 
have promise of the life which now is, and of 
that which is to come.” 

“That’s him,” whispered John Beech when 


Wilton Arms. 


149 


the speaker had set down. “ That’s him every 
time. Ain’t you glad you’ve heard him ?” 

“ Yes,” answered John Darrah, with a sigh 
of relief that the spell which had been upon him 
was broken. 

A familiar hymn was sung and the bene- 
diction pronounced, when John Beech whis- 
pered again : 

I’ve seen mother,but I didn’t tell her where 
I stay. I bought some bread and meat for her 
and told her to keep up good courage.” 

“ Did you see your father ?” asked the lad to 
whom this summary of news was reported. 

Yes, I see him and he see a blue boy, but 
he didn’t see any Brown Beech. I wanted 
mother to come here to-night, and she said 
may be she would after all the rest got in. 
So I’ll be looking for her.” 

Thus John Darrah was left to wait for other 
members of his family, and together they 
went home to talk of what they had heard. 


Our Homes, 


150 

Good tilings come all in a heap, don’t 
they, Bess ?” he said earnestly. 

Yes, and sometimes bad things come all 
in a heap,” she replied. I thought so eight 
weeks ago. I never shall forget that day. 
Amy did not get her wages the evening be- 
fore. We had not a pound of flour in the 
house or a basket of coal. It stormed, and 
everything seemed against us. I had looked 
for work until I was utterly discouraged, and it 
seemed to me the only thing we could do 
was to die.” 

That was a dreadful day, but 1 don’t be- 
lieve it would have seemed as bad, if we had 
remembered that God is good. Mother kept 
telling us, but we forgot it ; and all that week 
the days grew darker, until Amy brought 
home some breakfast.” 

So they did, John ; but since then they 
have been growing brighter, and I have learn- 
ed that we are comparatively rich. We have 


Wilton Arms. 


151 

comfortable rooms where we can all meet 
when the work of the day is over, while there 
are thousands all around us who^ave no 
homes.” 

“ They have places to stay in, don’t 
they ?” 

“Not such places as you could stay in,” 
replied Bessie. 

“ Some don’t have any place at all,” said 
John. “They sleep just where they happen 
to be when night comes ; or else they hunt 
up a box or barrel, or a cubby-hole among 
some boards. I never knew about it till I went 
’round jobbing. I have learned a good many 
things doing that.” 

“ I am afraid you will learn what you 
ought not to,” said Mrs. Darrah. “ I hope 
there will be some other work for you.” 

“ I hope so too, but I can do anything, as 
long as I have such a good home. I am 
glad I can help along. Don’t you know Mr. 


^52 


Our Homes, 


Arms said : ‘ It is not what we do, but how we 
do, which gives us our place in the world/ ” 

“ I rei^mber it, and I am sure he would 
do any kind of work in the same grand way 
that he talks. Nature made him a noble- 
man.” 

“ But if he had drinked whiskey he would 
have unmade a noble man.” 

That was not possible. He is living at 
his best ; preaching as he practices.” 

“ That is the splendid of it,” said John. 

I cannot be as grand as he is, but I will 
come as near to it as I can.” 

“ And ril be just as good as ever I can be,” 
chimed in Frale. 



IX. 


HAND WORK. 

ISS DARRAH, your sister is a 
genius. She has talent in her fingers 
which ought to make her fortune. I 
was dissatisfied with my hat and she asked 
the privilege of re-arranging the trimming. 
It was in her hands not more than ten min- 
utes, when she gave it back to me perfect. I 
should be sorry to part with either of you, 
but it seems to me you ought to be doing 
different work.” 

“ What should we do asked Amy Dar- 
rah, in response to Miss Blaine’s generous 
praise. 

“ I don’t know, but there are different 
kinds of work for such well educated girls.” 



154 


Our Homes, 


And ten workers where there is a de- 
mand for only one. There are writers, de- 
signers, book-keepers, and teachers ; but there 
are enough of these without us. We must be 
sure of our living, and fancy workers are too 
often dependent upon the caprice of the pub- 
lic. Work which is absolutely necessary will 
generally command its price, and to me, all 
honest work is honorable. The woman who 
writes a book, or a magazine article, does it 
for money. She does hard work with the 
expectation of being paid for it.’’ 

“ But a good many would do that who 
would not be hired to make a dress, if they 
were ever so poor. One is genteel, and the 
other is not.” 

“ False notions of gentility make every- 
thing harder to bear.” 

“ I know they do. There are hundreds 
of families in this city, struggling to keep up 
appearances, putting the best side out at the 


Hand Work. 


155 


expense of everything like real comfort, who 
are perfectly wretched, because, do what they 
will, they never satisfy themselves or any one 
else. The time has been when I should have 
done the same thing ; and it may be that they 
cover up what is in their homes for as good 
reason as we keep some of our business pri- 
vate/’ 

“ We are none of us quite willing to ac- 
knowledge that we are really poor, Miss 
Blaine.” 

None of us are quite willing to acknowl- 
edge that we are miserable. Miss Darrah. I 
know that by experience, and I know, too, 
that a woman may grow hard and cold from 
carrying some terrible secret in her heart. I 
am just beginning to know the happiness there 
is in helping others, and I find myself receiv- 
ing more than I can give.” 

“Then your possessions must be large. 
Miss Blaine. Every woman who works for 


Our Homes, 


156 

you, old or young, is made happier by you 
each day. They all feel that you are iheir 
friend." 

“ I am thankful they can feel so, and it 
must be that happy hearts make light 
work. I have never had so much accom- 
plished in the same time, as during the last 
week, yet orders are coming in so fast, that I 
must have more help." 

More agreeable manners and more reason- 
able prices attracted some who had formerly 
carried their work elsewhere. Madame 
Renau had objected to re-making a garment, 
and when persuaded to do so, invariably 
proved her assertion true that it was poor 
economy. Even Mrs. Horton, to whom she 
had .gone for counsel and comfort in her trials, 
never thought of employing her. There was 
a decided change in her methods of transact- 
ing business, yet sometimes the old spirit 


Hand Work, 


157 


would assert itself, until she remembered her 
humiliating position. 

One evening when she went to call upon 
her confidential friends, she found the dear 
old lady examining some dresses which had 
been long laid aside. 

“ I find I must have a new suit, and I am 
considering how it can be done at the least 
expense,” said Mrs. Horton. “ Cornie Harri- 
man is coming in, to see if anything can be 
made of this material.” 

“ Cornie Harriman !” repeated Miss 
Blaine. “ Is she a daughter of Mr. Harri- 
man, who failed a year or two ago ?” 

She is the oldest daughter, and a brave, 
good girl she is too. Mr. Harriman died 
soon after he lost his property, and the fami- 
ly now are principally dependent upon Cor- 
nie’s earnings. She goes out dressmaking 
in families, but she does not get the wages 
she ought to, poor child. She can make 


158 


Our Homes. 


more out of a piece of cloth than any one 
else I ever saw, and she is a lady too.” 

The Miss Harriman for whom I some- 
times worked was quite a belle.” 

“The very same, and that is her ring.” 

Mr. Horton ushered her in and introduced 
her to Miss Blaine. She was later than she 
had intended to be, and could then stop only 
long enough to assure Mrs. Horton that a 
new suit was possible with but small expense, 
and make an appointment for the earliest day 
she could command. 

That day, Amy and Bessie Darrah were 
sent to help in any way that they could ; go- 
ing directly after dinner, and carrying a note 
from Miss Blaine, asking that their services 
might be accepted. Bessie was charmed with 
the old laces and fringes brought out for in- 
spection ; arranging trimmings at her own 
pleasure, and finally pronouncing the dress 
perfectly elegant. 


Hand Work. 


159 


You have done much towards making it 
perfectly elegant,” said Cornie Harriman. 
‘‘ You have given the finishing touches upon 
which so much depends, and I must ac- 
knowledge that you will see capabilities and 
resources where I see none.” 

‘‘ That is because I have been obliged to 
see them and make the most of them at 
home,” was replied frankly. “ If material 
must be had, and there is nothing with which 
to buy it, it must be invented. I have the 
gift of invention and appropriation.” 

It is a gift to be prized ; and my dear 
Mrs. Horton, because of that gift you will be 
as well dressed as any lady in the city.” 

The three young ladies were invited to tea, 
so that the occasion was really festive ; and 
then when their hostess proposed to pay them 
for their work, they bade her good evening 
as gayly as if they had never felt the pinch - 
ings of poverty. 


i6o 


Our Homes. 


“ I must know more of the Misses Darrah,” 
said Mrs. Horton, when left alone with her 
husband, while Amy and Bessie went home, 
delighted with their new acquaintances. 

“ Mother, that dear old lady is coming to 
see you, some day,” remarked Bessie, after 
giving a detailed account of the afternoon’s 
pleasures. “ I don’t know how we can 
make this room look much better than 
it does, even for company, yet it seems 
as though we might improve it. We can 
move the stove into the little back room 
pretty soon, and then this will be a par- 
lor. I must make some rugs to cover 
the worn places in the carpet, and finish 
the patchwork I begun so long ago for a 
chair covering.” 

“You can’t do everything, Bess.” 

“ I can do a great deal when I am as 
happy as I am now. Why, John, just think 
how much we have for which to be thankful. 


Hand Work. 


i6i 


We have a home. We all love each other, 
and we can all help each other.” 

^ “ And there don’t anybody get drunk,” said 

Frale. 

“ That is best of all,” replied John. “ I 
talked with the boy who works for Clayter, 
to-day. He got off for an hour, and he came 
down where I was at work. He asked me if 
I had a father, and when I told him I hadn’t, 
he asked me if I wasn’t glad of it.” 

“ Why, John, what a strange question !” 

“ I don’t think it was a bit strange. He 
said his father was awful ugly to him, and 
that almost all the fathers around where he 
lives are just as bad. They just drink liquor, 
and abuse their families, besides letting them 
starve. That boy says he is going to run away, 
and he don’t care where he goes, if it is only 
where his father can’t find him. He don’t have 
enough to eat, and he showed me some black 

and blue marks on his arms. I spent five 
11 


i 62 


Our Homes, 


cents for him. I don’t know as I ought to, but 
I pitied him so I couldn’t help it. I bought 
a cup of coffee for him and two ginger-cakes. 
Amy, what do you suppose makes so many 
poor folks, drunkards ?” 

“ They are not drunkards because they are 
poor; but poor, because they are drunkards.” 

“ I thought so, but I heard some men talk- 
ing to the coffee-man, and they said it was a 
hard case if poor men couldn’t enjoy what 
little comfort they could get with their pipes 
and their whiskey, without being blamed for 
it.” 

“ Who is the coffee-man ? I never heard 
of him before ” 

“ He has only just started. He carries a 
can of hot coffee, with sugar and milk in it, 
all ready to drink, and some tin cups. He 
sells a cup full for three cents, and he is doing 
a good business. He carries a bag of ginger- 
cakes, too, that he sells for a cent apiece, and 


Hand Work. 


i6 


they look real good. They are so large, too, 
that two of them^ with a cup of coffee, make 
a pretty good lunch. I got five cents for 
doing almost nothing, and I pitied that poor 
little fellow so I couldn’t help giving him a 
treat. Clay ter don’t like the coffee-man. 
He said such peddling hurt his trade. He 
swore at the man awfully, but the man kept 
right on selling just the same.” 

“ Bless the coffee- man,” exclaimed Bess. 

I wonder I didn’t think of selling coffee for 
a living. I am glad you could help one poor 
little fellow. I begin to feel as though we 
were somebody. I have great expectations 
for the future.” 

“ We have great reason for thankfulness,” 
said Mrs. Darrah. 

And we are thankful, mother. We pro- 
pose, too, to show our thankfulness by our 
works. We never were the worst off of any- 
body, if I did think so. Being poor is not so 


164 


Our Homes, 


bad, if you only know how to be poor grace- 
fully. Mrs. Horton must have been rich some- 
time ; she has such lovely things. But she nev- 
er could have lived more nicely than she does 
now. She ought to give lessons on elegant 
housekeeping with small means.” 

“ And you on elegant dressing with small 
means.” 

“ I think I could do that, but this is not the 
time or place for such a lecture. I wish to be 
up in the morning, in season to see what this 
neighborhood is when it first opens its eyes ; 
so good-night all till the morning’s call.” 

“ And what did Bess see ?” was asked as 
the family sat down to breakfast. 

“ A motley collection of people, not many 
of them worth looking at,” she replied. “ But 
I saw the woman who lives in the next house, 
and that paid me for the loss of an hour’s 
sleep.” 

“ Did she go out.^” 


Hand Work, 


165 

'‘Yes; wearing the same old waterproof, 
with the cowl drawn over her head. She 
must work somewhere. I think it is her light 
we have seen in the third story. I wish we 
could get acquainted with her. A great 
many people came out of that house. There 
were four young men, with red faces and 
shabby coats. There were two elderly men, 
who shuffled along as if they dreaded every 
step. 

“ How about our neighbors nearer home ?” 

“ They look quite respectable, poor as they 
are. I intend to speak to the four girls who 
room in the attic, the first opportunity I have. 
It must be very hard for them to live as they 
do. They went out half an hour ago.” 

Breakfast over, the family separated, leav- 
ing only the mother and Frale at home. 
Dinner was always a hurried meal, so that 
there was little time for conversation. In the 
afternoon, Mrs. Darrah was surprised by a 


Our Homes. 


1 66 

visit from Mrs. Horton, who manifested so 
much of friendliness, her hostess almost for- 
got that this was their first meeting. 

‘‘ If you will send your son to us, I think 
Mr. Horton will find him employment for a 
day,” said the visitor, as she rose to take her 
leave; and the next morning, John presented 
himself in clean, well-mended garments. 

He was kept busy through the day and 
engaged for the next. In the evening he 
had a wonderful experience to relate. He 
had been asked so many questions as to 
what he could do and what he intended to 
do. 

“And, mother, I couldn’t tell anything, 
only that I am going to be honest and tee- 
total, and do the best I can. I told him I 
went to Sunday School, and I heard Mr. Arms 
talk. I don’t believe he has any questions 
left to ask to-morrow, but he was so pleasant, 
I didn’t mind answering them.” 


Hand Work. 


167 

Mr. Alden, this is the boy I wish to intro- 
duce to you/’ said Mr. Horton the next day, 
as a gentleman came into the yard where he 
was busy with John Darrah. “ I think he 
will suit you. He expects to work for a liv- 
ing, and calculates to do the best he can.” 

“Is that so?” asked Mr. Alden, looking 
sharply at the boy. 

“ Yes, sir,” was replied in a respectful tone. 

“ And are you satisfied to do such work as 
you are doing now ?” 

“ I should be satisfied if I could work with 
Mr. Horton. I don’t like to work in the 
dirt, and I don’t like to get so tired as I am 
sometimes. Then I see things that make me 
feel bad.” 

“ What 

“ Poor children who are hungry, and some 
who don’t know where they are going to 
sleep ; ^nd men who drink liquor, and so 
many things that are wrong.” 


Our Homes. 


1 68 

‘'Are you sure you shall never drink 
liquor ?” 

“Yes, sir, I am.” 

“ How soon can you spare this boy, Mr. 
Horton ?” 

“ Any time. He has about finished what 
I had for him to do. You can look in upon 
my wife while I settle with him, and then he 
can go with you.” 

“ Will you go with me to my store, and see 
if you would like the work I have to be done ?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied John, promptly, while 
his eyes fairly danced with delight at the 
prospect opening before him. 

He had worked bravely amid the most dis- 
agreeable surroundings, but he was a happy 
boy that night, as he thought that all this 
was at an end. He was to work for Mr. 
Alden so long as his conduct was satisfactory, 
and with those conditions, he was sure the 
engagement would be a long one. 


Hand Work. 


169 


** O mother, how did our good fortune 
really begin ?” asked Bessie, her eyes filling 
with tears. “ I know Miss Blaine sent the 
breakfast, but there was something back of 
that.” 

“ God was back of that,” cried Frale tri- 
umphantly. 

So he was, you dear boy. So he was. 
Let us thank him.” 

It was Bessie who kneeled first, and it was 
her voice which led the family devotions : 
Bessie with her abounding cheerfulness and 
joyous energy. 

“ Child, child, I am reproved as I never 
expected I should be,” sobbed Mrs. Darrah, 
as they rose from their knees. “ I should 
have done that every day of our lives, but I 
have left it for you. May God bless you and 
bless us all.” 


X. 


AFTER MARRIAGE. 

RE you quite determined upon this 
marriage ?” asked Mr. Maxon, lay- 
ing his hand upon his daughter’s 

head. 

“Yes, sir,” she replied unhesitatingly. 

“ Do you know what Clayborne Thaxter’s 
habits are, child ?” 

“ I know that he is rich.” 

“Would you marry him if he was poor ?” 

“ I would not marry any poor man, father. 
I never was made to pinch and calculate as 
some women can. I want plenty of money 
to spend, and Clayborne Thaxter is no worse 
than many other men. Everybody says he 
is generous, and when I am provided for. 



After Marriage. 


171 

there will be one less for you to think of. You 
know you told me, last week, that every dol- 
lar counted with you now.” 

“ It does, Garrie, but that is no reason why 
you should marry a bad man. Think, Garrie ; 
you must live with your husband and depend 
upon him for happiness. I cannot compel 
you to give up your engagement with Clay- 
borne Thaxter ; but if I could do so I think I 
should. I should have spoken to you before 
if I had thought it possible that you would 
accept him. You know Ednah Bayliss re- 
fused him.” 

“ I am not sure of that, father, but I am 
sure that I have accepted him, and shall 
marry him. Now, how much can you give 
me for a wedding outfit ?” 

Mr. Maxon named a sum his daughter pro- 
nounced wholly inadequate, but something in 
his manner and the tone of his voice prevent- 
ed any unkind remarks on her part. She 


Our Homes, 


1 72 

knew that he loved her, and she was going 
out from under his protection. She was act- 
ing in opposition to her mother’s wishes, but 
she would not yield. 

It remained for her, then, only to hasten 
the wedding-day, which she did so adroitly 
that Mr. Thaxter fancied he had himself pro- 
posed it. She managed also to secure a 
generous marriage portion ; and when this 
was accomplished, she flattered herself that 
she could defy misfortune. 

Her anxiety, then, to make the most of the 
money in her hands outweighed all other con- 
siderations. She was angry that Cornie 
Harriman had presumed to increase her 
prices for work, and at first refused to accede 
to them, yet upon consideration, she decided 
to waive the point. The bridal costume, 
however, was prepared under Miss Blaine’s 
supervision; Amy Darrah, with her dainty fin- 
gers, giving it the finishing touches. 


A fter Marriage, 


173 


“ The woman is crazy to think of marrying 
Clay Thaxter,” said the modiste to Mrs. Hor- 
ton, as they talked of the coming event. 
“ There might be some excuse for her if she 
was a young girl in her teens, with no one to 
advise her. He has no more principle than 
many poorer men, and unless he reforms 
his habits, he will be a poor man him- 
self." 

If he had begun life without a dollar in 
his pocket, there would have been some hope 
for him. He has a strong will, and hard 
work might have saved him." 

What will save him now ?" 

% 

“ God’s grace is sufficient, but men of leisure 
are less likely to reform than those who are 
obliged to earn their daily bread." 

What a home he will help to make, Mrs. 
Horton ! I never used to think much about 
that. I thought, if I thought at all, that peo- 
ple could be happy, going and coming as they 


174 


Our Homes. 


pleased, if they had pleasant, well-furnished 
houses where they could eat and sleep.’' 

“A roof over one’s head is necessary for 
comfort, but a home in the highest and best 
sense of that word is as indispensable to true 
happiness, as it is to moral and intellectual 
growth,” remarked Mr. Horton. “ One per- 
son can command something of this alone. 
Two people ought to' make sunshine and 
happiness for each other anywhere ; and they 
will, if they live as husband and wife 
should live. It is a mistaken notion that 
young men ought not to marry, until they can 
live in a large house, support a certain amount 
of style, and give expensive entertainments. 
Two people, with a large amount of love and 
common sense can live on a small amount of 
money ; and the world will have made a long 
stride towards the millenium when love and 
common sense are in general demand.” 

“ But many young men have expensive 


LllClC Will UC ICWCl IIUIIJCU Uldll LIJCIC iJllUUH 


be in our land. I have heard young men sa; 
they could not afford to be married, whei 
they spent, every year, more money than i 
required for the comfortable support of a wel 
managed family.” 

Economy is one of the fine arts, Mr 
Horton. I never expect to be a first class art 
ist, but I hope to make some proficiency, 
have already learned enough, to know tha 
the more economical people are, the more in 
dependent they are.” 

Swift says : ‘ I have no other notion o 
economy than that it is the parent to libert} 
and ease.’ ” 

'' And I believe, too, that the most econo 


1 76 Our Homes, 

mical people are often the most gener- 
ous.” 

Cornie Harriman was economical and gen- 
erous. Garrie Maxon was extravagant and 
penurious ; taking advantage of others’ neces- 
sities, to compel them to give her more than 
was her due. 

“ I shall be glad when it is all over, and 
we have started on our journey,” she remark- 
ed a little wearily, as she watched her old 
friend at work. “ Clayborne will be glad too. 
He said so this morning. Men are always 
bored with shopping and planning. After I 
am married, I shall consult my own taste 
without troubling my husband.” 

“ I think, if I was married, I should 
wish my husband to consult my taste, and 
therefore I should consult his ; but I would 
try not to trouble him.” 

“ Belle Clyde said something like that, but 
I have no such dutiful thoughts. If she mar- 


After Marriage, 


177 


ries Wilton Arms, she will consult some 
strange tastes. I cannot believe she will 
sacrifice herself so, but I know they are on 
cordial terms. They are good friends.” 

She is fortunate in having him for a 
friend.” 

‘'Why, Cornie Harriman, don’t you know 
that he began to work in the mill when he 
was a boy ?” 

“ I have heard so.” 

“And his father works there now. He 
has worked his way up from the ranks, but 
he must have very low tastes. If Belle 
Clyde marries him, she must expect to lose 
caste with well-bred people.” 

“ Who are well-bred people. Miss Maxon ?” 

“ Those who know how to conduct them- 
selves with propriety on all occasions,” was 
the somewhat hesitating reply to this question. 

Had Garrie Maxon then been asked if her 

affianced husband was a well-bred man, she 
13 


178 


Our Homes, 


would not have deigned a reply. He might 
drink wine immoderately ; might even be 
what the world calls a hard drinker ; but he 
was a gentleman; descended from families 
priding themselves upon their wealth and 
assured position in society. He would 
never mortify his wife by uncouth or boorish 
manners ; and if a thought of his possible un- 
worthiness intruded, it was instantly ban- 
ished. 

In the evening Clayborne Thaxter called 
upon Miss Maxon, and greeted her so coarse- 
ly that, under other circumstances, she would 
have sent him from her presence. She wished 
that she felt at liberty to do this. She was 
shocked, indignant, and distressed, but she 
had gone too far to retract the promise she 
had given. Half terrified at his reckless ap- 
pearance, she was thankful when he threw 
himself upon a lounge and slept. 

For three hours she sat there alone with 


After Marriage, 


179 


him, struggling to conquer her disgust, deter- 
mined not to believe that similar scenes 
might be often repeated : and yet in her heart 
of hearts, wishing she had never seen the 
man before her. At length she determined 
to rouse him from his slumbers, and after sev- 
eral attempts, succeeded in making him under- 
stand that it was time for him to go to his 
hotel. She assisted him to the street door, 
saw him safely down the steps, and then 
rushed to her chamber. 

The night which followed was the most 
wretched night of her life. She could not 
close her eyes. More than once she resolved 
to appeal to her father to see Mr. Thaxter 
and claim a release from her engagement, but 
pride and fear of poverty prevented. 

She knew that at any time her father 
might feel obliged to move into a smaller 
house, and she could not bear such a change. 
Other women had married men no better 


i8o 


Our Homes, 


than Clayborne Thaxter ; given elegant en- 
tertainments, and been much admired. What 
others had done she could do ; and besides, 
there might be some excuse for last evening’s 
excess. 

To do the man justice, he was sorry for the 
unfortunate occurrence, and made an apolo- 
gy which was most graciously accepted, 
while preparations for the marriage went 
on. 

Mr. Maxon went to his business every 
morning, returning with a heavier burden of 
care and anxiety every evening. 

Perhaps it is better that Garrie is to be 
provided for elsewhere,” he said to himself 
only the evening before she was to leave him, 
yet he trembled for her happiness. 

All things were done decently and in order. 
All things were done elegantly, but it was a 
gloomy bridal. Congratulations were offer- 
ed and good wishes expressed^ yet all seemed 


After Marriage, i8i 

like mockery to those who were sufficiently 
interested to think of it seriously. 

The bride was beautiful, as are all brides. 
The bridegroom was faultlessly attired ; and 
if his face showed marks of dissipation, it 
was not in that respect unlike the faces of other 
men whom the fashionable world delights 
to honor. The solemn words were spoken. 
The hurry and bustle were over, and the 
newly wedded pair started on their journey. 

Thank goodness, Clayborne is off my 
hands at last,” said an elderly lady with a 
sigh of relief. He has been a trial and vex- 
ation to me nearly ever since he was born. 
Now his wife must be responsible for him. I 
should have preferred Miss Bayliss for a niece, 
but I am not disposed to find fault with any 
arrangement which relieves me from further 
care of him. The girl is too proud to com- 
plain, and I hope she is too high-spirited to 
submit to ill-treatment'' 


i 82 


Our Homes. 


She is clear-headed. She secured a good 
settlement for herself,” replied Mr. William 
Thaxter. 

“ I am glad that she did. She is sure of 
a comfortable support, even if Clayborne 
spends every dollar he holds in his own name. 
In that case, too, she will of course provide 
for him. I hope she jvill be able to manage 
him.” 

“ He is like his father, and his mother had 
but little influence over her husband. You 
know that, sister. She died of a broken 
heart. I always pitied her.” 

She loved her husband, and that makes a 
vast difference. Marriage in this case is sim- 
ply a business arrangement, in which senti- 
ment has no part. Money bought that girl.” 

“And do you approve of mercenary mar- 
riages ?” 

“ I approve of suitable marriages. You 
know I was never romantic. I like luxuries 


After Marriage, 183 

too well for that. But to go back to the origi- 
nal subject. When Clay borne returns, we 
must receive him and his bride as befits those 
who bear our old name.’' 

Certainly, sister. We must do that of 
course. I had intended speaking of it. You 
know I am as sensitive in regard to our fair 
fame as any one can be.” 

The woman smiled scornfully ; turning her 
head, that this smile might not be seen. She 
understood her brother thoroughly. She knew 
it was only her own strong will which had 
restrained him from conduct she would have 
pronounced disgraceful. The generation be- 
fore them had drank wine without stint or 
measure, but they could not thus indulge in 
unlimited potations. 

With other possessions had come to them 
a drunkard’s appetite. She had, herself, 
fought against it with a savage earnestness 
for which few would have given her credit. 


184 


Our Homes. 


She had sipped of the sparkling cup, and re- 
placed it upon the table before her, when she 
longed to drain it of the last drop. She was 
a widow with four daughters, three of whom 
had married men whom she approved ; while 
the fourth and youngest had set at defiance 
all rules to which her family held her amen- 
able.* She was the most winsome and affec- 
tionate of all, but she would not sacrifice her- 
self to please her mother. 

She cared less for wealth and display than 
did her sisters. She had seen too much of 
hollow mockery and empty show, to be at- 
tracted by the false glitter which surrounds a 
purely conventional marriage. 

‘‘ I will live in two rooms if necessary, but 
I will not live with a man whom I cannot re- 
spect, and trust implicitly.’' 

This she had said with emphasis and decis- 
ion, proving her words by her deeds. There 
had been a time when her cousin Clayborne 


After Marriage. 


185 


professed himself ia love with her, and her 
mother was inclined to favor him notwith- 
standing his habits. He was generous, and a 
fortune could be easily secured. But Adah 
insisted that the gentleman was quite mis- 
taken in regard to his feelings towards her, 
and at length he was pleased to accept her 
assertion as true. 

She was not living in two rooms, but in a 
cosy tenement furnished with elegant simpli- 
city. Every article harmonized with every 
other, and over all love reigned supreme. 
Here she was quite content to be ignored by 
those who had once courted her acquaintance, 
but who now regarded her as shut out from 
the world. Her husband had only his brave, 
loyal heart, his profession, and physical 
strength, unimpaired by excesses, with which 
to make his wa} But all this he was willing 
to give to her service, if she would give him 
the inspiration of her presence. So, without 


Our Homes, 


1 86 

condemning him to years of weary waiting 
until he made a fortune for her, she had con- 
sented to share his poverty. 

Both were Christians, so that in their deep- 
est emotions they were in full sympathy. 
Morning and evening the voice of prayer was 
heard in their home, and when the young 
lawyer went to his office, he carried with him 
the approval of God and the love of a de- 
voted wife. 

To the utter disgust of her sisters, she had' 
not even a servant ; only a poor woman living 
not far away, who came in to give assistance 
in the heaviest work. 

“ Please let me manage this as I wish,” she 
had said to her husband. I always thought 
I should like to manage the expenses of a 
house. Grandmother Edmonds was a won- 
derful manager. Somebody squandered so 
much money that, at one time, the family 
finances were very low, but of course this must 


After Marriage. 


187 


not be acknowledged. So grandmother set 
herself to the practice of economy, and I 
have heard that frugal meals and moderate 
fires were the rule in her house for several 
years. At the same time, however, she bated 
not one jot of her haughty manner or cere- 
monious state. Please let me try what I can 
do.’' 

“ But economy, my dear, may be carried 
to excess. I am not sure that frugal meals 
and moderate fires will thoroughly suit us.” 

Never you fear for your comfort, husband 
mine. I will have a care for that, and I must 
certainly try my skill in the kitchen unless 
you say me nay.” 

“ How can I say you nay to any request.^” 
replied Henry Ordway, kissing the best and 
dearest wife in the world.” 

She made bread, puddings, pies, and cake, 
and cooked meat to a turn in her parlor of a 
kitchen ; measured out tea and coffee, calcu- 


Our Homes, 


1 88 

lating- to a nicety the exact quantity to be 
used, and rarely failing of what housekeepers 
call good luck.” 

The poor woman, who came in whenever 
desired, learned lessons of thrift and economy 
where least she expected them. She gained, 
too, more than this. It was not in Mrs. Ord- 
way’s nature to look upon a sad face without 
seeking to brighten it, and when Mrs. Ma- 
lone’s face was wet with tears, she would ask 
the cause. 

Sure ma’am, it’s enough I have to make 
the stones cry out, and it all comes of the 
drink,” was replied. I don’t mind the work, 
nor the cold, nor the hunger for meself ; but 
there’s the babies, and I not able to- give 
them what they need.” 

“ I am so sorry for you. I wish I could 
help you,” said Mrs. Ordway. 

“You do that every time I come ma’am, 
but I go back, and me heart aches all the 


After Marriage. 


189 


same. If you’d give me what we can eat and 
wear, in place of money for me work, may 
be rd keep it ; but the money goes, and me 
not having any good of it.” 

Does youp husband take it ?” was asked 
with flashing eyes. 

“ Husbands that drink liquor, ma’am, take 
money where they find it. My Terence has 
a kind heart, but the liquor covers it up and 
makes him that bad.” 

Where are your children ?” 

‘‘ With a neighbor that’s glad to earn a bit, 
minding them. She has a dozen in her room 
some days, and she’s that good, they’re glad 
to go to Granny Tighe. She’s lame, so she 
goes with a crutch, but she has the fairies’ 
gift for stories.” 

Can she read ?” 

Niver a word. There’s a girl that does 
the reading. O ma’am, the likes of you don’t 


190 


Our Homes. 


know how we poor ones live, trembling for 
our lives.” 

“ How do you live with drunkards ? You 
cannot love them.” 

“ It’s not the drunkards, ma’am, but the 
men they are without the drink that we love. 
I can’t tell you how it is. It passes me to 
understand it, but there’s something holds us; 
may be the same that holds rich women to 
them they’ve promised to live with.” 

The lady thus answered turned away, ask- 
ing herself the question : “ How can any 
woman, rich or poor, endure existence, with 
a drunkard as her life-long companion ?” 



XI. 

EXTRAVAGANT 

OHN DARRAH proved to be the 
right boy in the right place, as his 
employer assured the friend who 
had recommended him. 

‘‘He has one remarkable habit, and that 
is the habit of saving small things,” said Mr. 
Alden. “ I noticed it when he first came 
into the store. Every scrap of paper which 
cannot be used is thrown into a box, to be 
sold as paper stock, and every bit of twine is 
saved in the same way. I asked him, one 
day, where he learned such a habit, and he 
said his sister Bess told him to do it.” 

“ Is he as economical in the use of his 
time ?” asked Mr. Horton. 



192 


Our Homes, 


“ I think he is,” was replied. He is 
always busy. I have given him some lessons 
in simple book-keeping, and I have observed 
that whenever he has leisure, he is making 
out bills or invoices of goods ; and in that 
way he utilizes some of the paper stock with- 
out detracting from its value.” 

“ But he must have some genuine boy’s 
habits.” 

“Yes; he whistles and slams the doors, 
and sometimes he forgets my orders. But 
this is not often ; and when he does forget, 
he is always ready to acknowledge it and 
make amends as far as possible.” 

“Then you find him honest?” 

“Yes, sir, and he understands that when 
I cannot trust his word I shall not employ 
him. I believe he is conscientiously truth- 
ful. The boy has a conscience, and as far as 
temperance is concerned, he is teetotal to the 
last degree.” 


Extravagant. 


193 


I knew that before I spoke to you of 
him. A boy who is not teetotal is not wor- 
thy of confidence anywhere. If I was in 
business I would not have a person about 
the premises who would not take the iron- 
clad pledge.’’ 

“ That is ultra, Mr. Horton. Of course, 
you would have a perfect right to do so, but 
some people would call you arbitrary and 
unreasonable.” 

‘‘ Not at all. I should only be taking the 
necessary precautions to insure myself against 
probable loss and failure. I should injure 
no one ; coerce no one. I have not told } ou ; 
but I had a partner whom I knew to be a 
moderate drinker. In some way, a large 
part of the property I had accumulated was 
swallowed up ; gone ; I never quite under- 
stood how, but recent developments have 
given me a clue to the mystery. At times, 

my partner drank immoderately, and when 
13 


194 


Our Homes. 


under the influence of liquor, made unwise 
bargains, which he concealed from me. I 
suspected him of dishonesty, but I had no 
proof of it. He was the son of an old friend, 
and I was unwilling to believe any evil of 
him. After we separated I lost track of him 
until a few days ago, when I heard that he 
had become a miserable sot. I have no wish 
to know exactly how he wronged me, but I 
am sure that if he had been a teetotaler, he 
would not have wronged me at all.’' 

“ Are you sure that alcoholic drinks are 
really responsible for all the sin and misery 
imputed to them ? ” asked Mr. Alden serious- 
ly after a short silence. 

“ I am sure of it,” was the quick response. 
“ The half has not been told, and the half 
never can be told. Where alcoholic drinks 
do not actually drag the users down to drunk- 
enness, they sap the physical and mental 
strength, deaden the moral sensibilities, and 


Extravagant, 195 

hold the entire man in vassalage. They 
make the nerves more sensitive and the tem- 
per more irritable. Their long continued use, 
in even moderate quantities, lays the foun- 
dation of disease which may kill suddenly, or 
condemn the victim to years of suffering.’' 

Mr. Horton, you must have given this sub- 
ject much thought.” 

I have, and every day’s observation con- 
firms me in the opinions I have expressed. 
Indeed, I know that I have spoken truly.” 

“ Mr. Horton, you remember that you sup- 
posed my grandfather must have left his 
family a large fortune.” 

I do remember that I thought so, and 
that I was surprised, when you told me that 
it was less than might have been expected.” 

“ My grandfather always used stimulants.” 

“ I know that he did, so long as my ac 
quaintance with him continued, and I know 
that he drank more with every year.” 


196 


Our Homes. 


“ He did, Mr. Horton, and he died a 
drunkard ; although he was restrained as 
much as possible from the indulgence of his 
appetite. Our family all know this, yet - I 
would not acknowledge it to a stranger. He 
was only a wreck of what he had once been, 
for several years before he died, and the 
care of him was very burdensome. An un- 
married daughter devoted herself to him, 
and I have often heard her say that the wom- 
an who trusted her happiness to a moderate 

♦ 

drinker would sooner or later have reason to 
curse her folly. She literally gave her life 
for her father. She grew old before her 
time, and is now a hopeless invalid.” 

“You of the present generation have been 
taught a lesson which should have its legit- 
imate effect.” 

“We have not all heeded the lesson, Mr. 
Horton. Aunt Luella has added her entreat- 
ies, but we are not easily influenced.” 


Extravagant. 


197 


Is it not strange, Mr. Alden, that many 
people who are not easily influenced should 
so readily yield to some temptation to evil ? 

“ I understand you,” replied the young 
man, as a blush crimsoned his cheeks. “We 
all have our weak points, however much we 
may pride ourselves upon our strength, and 
I was weaker than I could have believed 
possible. I thank you, every day, for com- 
ing to me as you did. You saved me. 
Chance, or providence sent you to me at the 
right moment.” 

“A woman sent me to you, Mr. Alden. 
The man known as Alphonse Renau boasted 
of his plans, and the woman who believed 
herself his wife determined to thwart them. 
She appealed to me for assistance, and I 
gave it as best I could.” 

“I owe her then a heavy debt. She must 
have been thankful to be rid of Renau at any 
price.” 


198 


Our Homes, 


“ She was, but the poor woman who 
claimed him as the father of her children re- 
turned to her home heart-broken.” 

“ I understood that Madame Renau was 
very kind to her.” 

No one could have been more so, and I 
presume the kindness is still continued. Miss 
Blaine, as we now call her, could support the 
mother and children for a less amount than 
her pretended husband demanded of her. 
He was extravagant, to the last degree, and 
after he lived with her, he never earned a 
dollar. He won some money at the gaming 
table, but he never earned a dollar by honest 
work.” 

‘ I cannot conceive of a woman supplying 
a man with the means of gratifying such 
tastes.” 

“ There are thousands of women doing it 
in our country ; with tens of thousands sup- 
porting men with less extravagant, but equal- 


Extravagant. 


199 


ly gross tastes ; poor, wretched women, doing 
the hardest work, while their husbands 
smoke and drink in low groggeries. I know 
it is said that women are extravagant and 
reckless of expense ; but the extravagance 
and recklessness of man is to that of woman 
as ten to one. Many young men claim that 
they must make a fortune before they can 
afford to marry.” 

Of course, a young man wishes to give 
the woman he loves as good a home as she 
leaves for his sake.” 

“ True, and if he is what he should be, he 
can do it without waiting until the gladness 
and enthusiasm of youth are past. I never 
believed in marrying, with no means of com- 
fortable support ; but a good home can be 
provided at small cost, and a young man can 
have no better safeguard than such a home. 
•If he is willing to spend money, only for such 
things as he can enjoy with his wife, and she 


200 


Our Homes. 


is willing to learn the practice of elegant 
economy, they can live handsomely on a lim- 
ited income * much less than a thousand a 
year.” 

‘ But few young ladies would be willing to 
try the experiment: few — I mean — who are 
educated and refined.” 

More than you think, friend, provided 
always that the economy is to be mutual. 
There must be careful management and close 
watch of small expenses, but a true-hearted, 
sensible woman will hardly object to this, if 
her husband is equally mindful of small 
things. There is no reason why she should 
economize, while her husband indulges in 
high-priced cigars, oyster and champagne 
suppers, for which he pays without counting 
the cost. A woman fails in self-respect, if 
she consents to be a party to any such one- 
sided arrangement.” 

But, Mr. Horton, men in business must 


Extravagant 


201 


spend money freely, or gain an unenviable 
reputation for meanness.” 

‘‘ It is not necessary that they should spend 
money for tobacco or liquors of any kind un- 
der any circumstances.” 

Do you condemn the use of tobacco, as 
you do the use of alcoholic drinks?” 

“ I condemn it as a waste of money, a 
waste of time and strength, and a most filthy, 
disagreeable habit. You see I am talk- 
ing plainly. We are discussing a question 
of social economy, not of personal prefer- 
ence.” 

‘‘ That is what we are doing, and the plain 
truth should be spoken. I am willing to hear 
it, even if I am condemned. But the use of 
tobacco in some form is an almost universal 
habit with men, and in some sections of the 
country with women too.” 

“In proportion to its use, do we not see 
squalor and repulsive poverty ; or if not these. 


202 


Our Homes. 


an absence of refinement and delicate cour- 
tesy ?” 

“ I must acknowledge that we do.” 

“ Mr. Alden, did you ever chance to spend 
a few hours with a company of gentlemen, 
who drank and smoked and chewed at pleas- 
ure ?” 

“I have.” 

“ And did they seem to you suitable com- 
panions for pure, intelligent women ?” 

“Certainly not, as they then appeared; 
but no gentleman would conduct himself with 
such freedom in the presence of ladies.” 

“Yet he is the very same man, although 
he leaves behind him, for the hour, tobacco- 
box, pipe, and wine-glass.” 

“Yes sir, he is, in a certain sense.” 

“ And he may at any time relapse into the 
disagreeable state from which he aroused 
himself” 

“I suppose he may, but” — 


Extravagant. 


203 


The sentence was left incompiete, and after 
waiting sufficiently long for his companion to 
add thereto, Mr. Horton said : 

“ The relapse is pretty certain to come, 
sooner or later, in the presence of his wife, if 
he has one, however much he may pride him- 
self on his gentlemanly manners. The money 
spent in these relapses takes so much from 
what might be spent in making home more 
comfortable or more elegant.” 

“ But there are men who can afford these 
indulgences without taking anything from 
their homes ” 

“ Excuse me ; but while that is true, re- 
garded from one standpoint, it is also ^;^true.” 

“ I understand what you mean, Mr. Hor- 
ton ; and if our boys and young men could be 
induced to live according to your theories, 
the world would gain immensely. I have 
heard young men say they could not afford 
to marry ; when they were spending large 


204 


Our Homes, 


amounts, every year, for what you so severely 
condemn. They talked of the expense of 
supporting a wife, and declared, if they ever 
married, they must marry a woman with 
a fortune in her own right, or wait for 
some wonderful streak of luck ; and I confess 
that their decision seemed to me reasona- 
ble.” 

It may have been. I am not one to 
urge people into matrimony ; but I insist 
that it is both weak and wicked for men to 
waste their substance in riotous living, and 
then claim that they cannot meet the de- 
mands of ordinary life. I wish to have 
things called by their right names.” 

We should hear some very disagreeable 
names.” 

We should soon be rid of some disagreea- 
ble facts. Maudlin, or beastly drunkenness 
cannot be truthfully described without ex- 
citing emotions of disgust even in those ad- 


Extravagant, 205 

dieted to the vice. Drunkenness is always 
repulsive.'’ 

It is astonishing, too, how the immoder- 
ate use of liquor affects a man’s personal ap- 
pearance. My grandfather became almost 
loathsome. It does not seem possible that I 
could ever reach such a state.” 

“ There is one safeguard, my friend.” 

“ And only one ?” 

“ I know of but one. At your age, your 
grandfather was a finer looking man than 
you are. But here comes my good wife, who 
will have somewhat to say to us.” 

“ I have been acting as tract distributor, 
this afternoon,” remarked Mrs. Horton, when 
she had laid aside her bonnet and shawl, and 
seated herself in her favorite chair. ‘ ‘ I had a 
few copies of ‘ A Cottager’s Story,’ and as I 
thought I knew where they were needed, I 
carried them to those places. People will 
read a story when they would not read a ser- 


2o6 


Our Homes, 


mon, and if they read this tract, they will 
learn how to prepare a few cheap, palatable 
dishes.” 

“ And were you politely received ?” 

In every instance ; and I learned enough 
myself, to more than compensate for all un- 
pleasant anticipations.” 

“ Please tell us what you have learned, wife.” 

That human nature is everywhere essen- 
tially the same, and that there are choice 
spirits all around us, of whose existence the 
world will never know. But oh, the wretch- 
edness and misery of the abominable drinking 
habits of our people ! Money squandered, 
homes desecrated, and innocent children con- 
demned to lives of lingering torture ! I 
thought I had seen poverty before, but this 
afternoon I have been admitted to some of its 
inner courts. I found a missionary there, too, 
a sweet young girl, poor as the poorest, yet 
striving to do her duty as a Christian.” 


ExtravaganL 


207 


“ Why does she stay in such a place ?” 

Because of her brother’s family. He will 
not provide a better place, and by staying 
with them, she hopes to save the children. 
They have been in the city only a few weeks, 
and she was so glad to see a friendly face, she 
cried for joy.” 

But you were a stranger.” 

“ We were soon acquainted, and I hope to 
prove myself a friend. She was delighted with 
the tract, and I am sure she will be benefitted 
by it. She told me she had almost given up 
hope for her brother. His wife, too, is so 
discouraged, she does not try to make the 
best of what she has. If I was thirty years 
younger, I am not sure but I should devote 
my whole time to preaching temperance and 
economy.” 

You place temperance first, Mrs. Horton.” 

“ Certainly. The saving of dimes or pen- 
nies will never compensate for the waste of 


2o8 


Our Homes, 


dollars. The majority of people need to save 
dimes and pennies.'’ 

“ My wife understands all about it, Mr. Al- 
den, and she practises what she preaches ” 

“ I should almost think John Darrah had 
taken lessons of her.” 

“ He has a sister entirely capable of teach- 
ing him ; the brightest, most energetic girl I 
have seen in a long time. There are many 
sunny pictures, as well as many hanging in 
the shadows ; and often it requires but little 
to sweep away the shadows. I am more and 
more impressed^ too, Mr. Alden, with the fact 
that the darkest pictures are not hanging in 
the houses of poor people.” 



THE NEW HOME. 



fARRIE MAXON' had thought that, 
with money, all things would be en- 
durable. She had no conception of 
the depths of humiliation to which a drunk- 
ard’s wife is doomed, until she had experi- 
enced somethinof of that humiliation herself. 


She was the bride of Clayborne Thaxter, a 
man of wealth, whose name was in itself a 
passport to favor, but none the less was she 
a drunkard’s wife ; looking down a long vista 
of years, and shrinking, appalled, from the re- 
sponsibilities they might bring to her. 

The journey she had anticipated with so 
much pleasure proved but a series of mortifica- 
tions. When she attempted remonstrance, she 


210 


Our Homes, 


was'told that she had taken her bridegroom 
for better or worse, and it was quite too soon 
to determine the wisdom of her venture. She 
had been glad to commence the journey ; she 
was even more glad when it was ended, and 
she was established in an elegant suite of 
rooms in a fashionable hotel. 

Her husband’s family lost no time in calling 
upon her, while she wondered that she did 
not see the members of her own family. She 
had been remiss in writing, but she announc- 
ed her arrival, and expected the announce- 
ment would be speedily honored. 

“ Do you know anything of father ?” she 
one day asked her husband. 

“ He has moved out of town about ten miles. 
He has made a compromise with his creditors, 
and is living closely to redeem himself I 
called at his old place of business, but he 
was not there. If you would like to go out 
to their new home, we can go at any time. 


The New Home. 


21 I 


There is no reason why we should stand on 
ceremony. I don’t believe in giving up your 
friends because they are poor. There is 
Cousin Adah, the best friend I ever had, 
married Ordway because she loved him. 
Her sisters were ready to cut her acquain- 
tance, but I liked her all the better for it. 
She is happy, too, and more sure of a good 
home all her life, than she would have been, 
to marry a fellow like me, worth ten times 
what I am. The Thaxters will probably con- 
sider themselves injured by your father’s fail- 
ure, but it does not trouble me We must 
give him a lift, and you can make your moth- 
er an allowance, which I hope you will do. 
When will you go to see her ? ” 

I think I will write to mother first, and 
ask her when it will be convenient for her to 
receive us.” 

Nonsense. If I had a mother, I should 
go to see her without making any fuss about 


212 


Our Homes, 


it. I knew, months ago, that your father 
was struggling hard to keep his head above 
water, and that you would be likely to marry 
the first rich man who offered himself to you. 
I think we understand each other. I never 
professed to be better than I am, and you 
never professed to love me.” 

“Why Clayborne Thaxter, are you—” 

“No, I am not drunk. On the contrary, 
I have been very moderate in my drams this 
morning. I have merely said what we both 
know to be true, and it will not be necessary 
to repeat it.” 

Mrs. Thaxter sat for an hour as her hus- 
band had left her ; her thoughts confused, 
and her heart throbbing wildly with unde- 
fined fears. At length she was able to look 
at her situation calmly. The worst had been 
said. It was no longer necessary to simulate 
a regard she did not feel. Relieved of this 
burden, she resolved never to utter another 


The New Home. 


213 


word which could be construed into reproach 
or dissatisfaction. What her husband de- 
sired, that she would do. 

He was generous. This was his one re- 
deeming quality. 'She appreciated his kind- 
ness in proposing to assist her father, and 
made a hasty calculation of the amount she 
could devote to her mother. 

She must visit her parents, and for a mo- 
ment she longed to go back to her old home 
relations. But glancing at herself in the 
mirror, she remembered that silks and satins, 
velvets and jewels greatly enhanced her beau- 
ty. She could not have all things. If she 
had sacrificed sentiment, she had gained 
something more substantial ; and thus reason- 
ing, she put aside both regrets and fears. 

The new home. — How small and plain it 
seemed beside others more pretentious ; and 
yet there was about it an air of cosy comfort 
which Clayborne Thaxter recognized at once. 


214 


Our Ifomes, 


“Not a bad place,” he said to his wife as 
they approached it. “ There are the boys 
hard at work, with Emma giving orders. 
There is your father by the barn. He is a 
jolly brick, anyway. He does not like me 
very well, but I do not blame him for that. 
Halloa ! There is Tot. I am going to 
make friends with her.” 

“ You will find it easy to do that. She is a 
dear little thing, ready to make friends with 
any one who will treat her kindly.” 

“ Let us adopt her, Garrie.” 

“ Do you mean it ? ” 

“Yes. We are not very good company for 
each other, and she would help to entertain 
us both. Then your mother would be saved 
considerable care, and your father a good 
deal of expense.” 

“You can ask mother what she would 
think of such an arrangement.” 

“ I will,” replied the gentleman ; and as 


The New Home, 


215 


they had reached the house, there was no 
time for further discussion. 

The visitors were cordially welcomed, al- 
though there was some constraint in the 
manners of host and hostess. 

“ It was hard to give up the house we had 
lived in so long, but your father has been so 
considerate of me through it all, that I could 
not find fault with anything he thought best 
to do,” said Mrs. Maxon when alone with 
her daughter. “ Everybody says he has been 
very honorable, and I think he never had 
more friends than he has now. The children 
are all delighted at the prospect of living in 
the country, and I intend to enjoy it. The 
boys have made a great many plans for the 
future. I am not sure but their father’s fail- 
ure will prove a blessing to them.” 

“ A failure can never be a blessing. I do 
not see how you could bear it.” 

‘'Aunt Jane came and stayed with us 


2i6 


Our Homes. 


through the hardest of it. She was a great 
comfort to your father ; so cheerful and hope- 
ful, that she kept us all up. She hurried us 
out here, too, as soon as possible.” 

“ I don’t understand how so much could 
have been done in so short a time.” 

“Your father looked at this place several 
months ago. He knew that his affairs were ' 
in a bad state, and that there was only one 
chance to save himself That chance failed, 
and he made an assignment of his property 
for the benefit of his creditors.” 

“I am thankful I was not at home. I 
should have been mortified to death. I never 
could bear to be ignored and slighted by peo- 
ple I have always known. Those people 
will not slight me now.” 

“We thought of you, my child, and hoped 
you would have no occasion to be sorry you 
had left us. You are not poor.” 

“ No, mother, I am not, I am thankful for 


The New Home. 


217 


that. Perhaps I can help you. Mr. Thax- 
ter wished me to make you an allowance, 
and I shall be glad to do so.’^ 

“ No, child, no. It was kind in him to 
think of it, but we are going to live accord- 
ing to our own means, and not the means of 
others. Your father will resume business in 
a small way, and we are all going to do our 
part of the work here.” 

“You have servants, mother.” 

“ Not one. How can we have ? We should 
not have this place but for your Aunt Jane’s 
generosity. She bought it, and we pay her 
a merely nominal rent. Your father kept 
back nothing. We left the furniture, except 
the very plainest, just as we had used it, 
hoping to have it sold with the house.” 

“ Why, mother, how could you let it 
go?” 

“ Because it was right that it should go, 
and besides, what could we do with it 


2i8 


Our Homes. 


here? We reserved the piano for Emma. 
She has done wonderfully.” 

“ She was never like me.” 

“ No, but she has helped us in every way. 
She was the first one who thought of examin- 
ing the furniture which had been stored in 
the attic of our large house, and there she 
found what she called splendid old things, 
doing no one any good. Now we are going 
to make them of use. When they are newly 
varnished, they will be really elegant.” 

“ Elegant economy,” said Mrs. Thaxter 
with a scarcely perceptible sneer. 

“ Exactly that, my dear. That is a com- 
mon phrase in these days, and Emma says 
she intends to prove herself an elegant econ- 
omist. We are very comfortable here. Your 
father has grown almost young again. He 
never told me much about his business, except 
that it was necessary to be careful of our ex- 
penses. I tried to economize what I could. 


The New Home, 


219 

but we were living so entirely beyond our 
income, this amounted to nothing.” 

“ And if I had remained at home, every- 
thing would have gone on just the same.” 

It could not have been different, Garrie. 
Your father could have done no more. It 
would have been hard for you, child. I hope 
you are happy with your husband.” 

“ I am glad that I am married to Clayborne 
Thaxter,” answered the daughter with an un- 
faltering voice, although she could not quite 
repress the tears which responded to those of 
her mother. 

These two had never been to each other 
the loving confiding friends they should be. 
Garafelia Maxon had been named for her 
father’s oldest sister ; a proud, ambitious wom- 
an, with whom she had spent several years 
of her early girlhood, and from whom she 
seemed to have inherited many traits of char- 


acter. 


220 


Our Homes, 


At her aunt’s decease, she had returned to 
her father’s house, where she asserted herself 
in a way which caused her parents to regret 
that they had allowed her to remain away 
from them so long. Her brothers and sisters 
were much younger than herself, with more 
affectionate natures and more amiable tem- 
pers, It was not strange, therefore, that they 
experienced a sense of relief when she became 
Mrs. Thaxter. 

Emma had mourned over their changed 
fortunes, but she had done this in secret, 
while in the presence of others, she had worn 
a smiling face. Aunt Jane had comforted 
and counseled her, until she was developing 
most unexpected capabilities. 

“ You look like a country girl already,” 
was said in a tone only too familiar to the 
younger sister. 

“ I feel like a country girl,” was replied 
pleasantly. “ Life here would not suit you. 


The New Home, 


221 


but I intend it shall suit me, and I hope, 
too, to suit the life. Anything is better than 
having father look as he has the last six 
months. Aunt Jane says our coming here 
will be the salvation of the boys, and she 
thinks they are worth saving. Tot is as 
happy as the birds. Mr. Thaxter seems to 
find her very entertaining.” 

“ I presume he does. He is fond of 
children.” 

That is a good trait. I have somewhere 
read that no person can be thoroughly bad 
who is fond of children.” 

^‘Then you think my husband is not 
thoroughly bad. Thank you for the compli- 
ment.” 

“ I was not thinking of him when I quoted , 
the remark. He has certainly made himself 
agreeable this morning. Garrie, you are a 
queenly looking woman,” added Emma after 
a short silence. Your position becomes 


222 


Our Homes. 


you. The proudest Thaxter will have no 
reason to blush for you.” 

“ Thank you for another compliment,” said 
Mrs. Thaxter, quite flattered thereby, know- 
ing as she did that her sister would not utter 
an untruth. ‘‘ I hope no one will be ashamed 
of me. But I am so sorry for you all. Of 
course, you do not expect to be received in 
society as you would be if this unfortunate 
failure had not occurred.” 

“ Blessed are they who expect nothing, for 
they shall not be disappointed. If people 
treat me politely, I shall treat them politely. 
If they look over my head, I shall look 
over their heads ; so I am not likely to be 
troubled.” 

“ But what of your dress ?” 

“ Cornie Harriman is coming out to spend 
a week soon, when the resources of the house 
will be laid under tribute, and utilized to the 
very best advantage. If you ever see any of 


The New Home. 


223 


your cast off garments re- made, and trimmed 
in captivating style, you need say nothing 
about it. I intend to learn to cut and make for 
myself. You see, I have many plans for use- 
fulness and economy.” 

“You all seem to have gone wild on econ- 
omy. For my part I always hated the sound 
of it.” 

“You. will have no need to practice it.” 

“ That is a comfort. When does father 
commence business again ?” 

“ As soon as his affairs are settled, which 
he hopes will be very soon. He is to have a 
partner this time.” 

“ Who r 

“ Elden Cummings.” 

“ Elden Cummings !” repeated Mrs. Thax- 
ter, as she blushed crimson. “ He must be 
as poor as father.” 

“ Oh, no. He has a small capital, and 
everybody says he has splendid business ca- 


Our Homes. 


224 

pacities. He wrote to father saying that he 
wished to go into business for himself, and 
offered father very generous terms, which of 
course were gladly accepted. He is coming 
here soon, when the final arrangements will 
be made.” 

‘‘ Do you remember him ?” 

“ Certainly. I am old enough to remember 
what transpired eight years ago. Elden 
Cummings was a great favorite with me, and 
I wondered a certain sister of mine did not 
fancy him as much as I did.” 

“ Is he married ?” 

“ No. People say he is a confirmed bach- 
elor.” 

Mrs. Thaxter did not care to ask further 
questions. There was a time when she had 
seen much of Elden Cummings, who was then 
a clerk in her father’s store, and she had ac- 
knowledged to herself that, were he a wealthy 
man, she might have loved him. Indeed, 


The New Home, 


225 


after she had sent him from her, she knew 
that she did love him, but of this she gave no 
token. She would not marry a poor man. 
So the years had come and gone until she 
assured her mother that she was glad to be 
the wife of Clayborne Thaxter. 

She declined spending the day in this 
country home. She had other engagements, 
and moreover, she knew that her husband 
would hardly go through the day, without in 
some way betraying his weakness. She re- 
peated her offer of assistance, with the same 
result, and felt that she had fully discharged 
her duty. Her father also refused to accept 
so much as a loan from his son-in-law. 

“ I am sure both father and mother appre- 
ciated your kindness,” she remarked as they 
drove along. 

“ I presume they did, and I must say that I 
have more respect for them than I ever had 
before. As for Tot, I am dead in love with 

15 


226 


Our Homes, 


her, wee, winsome thing. I wish she be- 
longed to me ; but I could see, without ask- 
ing, that there was not one to spare in that 
house.” 

The day passed more tolerably than Mrs. 
Thaxter had expected, but late at night her 
husband was brought to her in a state of 
beastly intoxication. She had been waiting 
for him, and dismissing the servants, she pro- 
ceeded to care for him as best she could. 

She was surprised at her own indifference. 
She was neither grieved nor angry. This was 
simply an experience to which she must be- 
come accustomed, and strange as it may seem, 
she slept quietly for several hours ; congratu- 
lating herself, upon her awakening, that she 
had been able to do this. 

“ Give me a glass of brandy,” was said to 
her peremptorily, and she obeyed. “ My hand 
was not steady enough to pour it,” added 
Clayborne Thaxter after draining the glass. 


The New Home. 


227 


Richard will soon be himself again. You 
did well for me last night, but it was hard on 
you. I might have a servant to look after 
me especially, if you would like it.” 

“I would like to have you do as you 
please,” she replied. 

“ Thank you. If that is the case, we shall 
get on famously together. You can make 
yourself beautiful and I can do just as I 
please. You are a handsome woman. A 
man can afford to pay for the privilege of 
looking at you and thinking that you belong 
to him. I am never very cross, as long as 
no one opposes me, so you need not be 
afraid of me.” 

She bowed in polite acquiescence, which 
politeness he acknowledged, although it must 
be confessed that he was somewhat annoyed 
by her indifference. He had never intended 
to consult any woman’s pleasure, but he was 
not prepared to find his wife so readily accept- 


228 


Our Homes. 


mg the situation. He had admired Miss 
Bayliss, and piqued by her refusal, had re- 
solved . to marry, with or without admiration, 
as the case might prove. 

His family found it quite impossible to pa- 
tronize his wife. If she had purchased her 
diamonds dearly, she wore them royally, and 
no one presumed to ask if she regretted the 
purchase. 



XIII. 

GLORIOUS. 

M O RN I N G in spring, when the world 
seemed in haste to put on its most 
beautiful garments, and nature’s 
voices were eloquent with praise and thanks- 
giving. The sunlight shimmered through 
the trees, lingering here and there on some 
flower whose petals were unfolded as if to 
catch something of its warmth. 

What a blessing was life, with all its possi- 
bilities of happiness and usefulness ! What 
was toil, but the outgiving of strength, be- 
stowed for a noble purpose ! What the dis- 
cipline of life, but the refiner’s fire purging 
away all dross and imperfections, leaving only 



230 


Our Homes. 


the pure gold meet for the Master s accept- 
ance ! 

Such a glorious morning,” as Wilton 
Arms said to his father, when standing by 
their cottage door. 

“Yes, my son, it is glorious.” 

“ Life is glorious, too, father.” 

“ But do you never feel that life is a strug- 
gle and a warfare ?” 

“Not for myself The lines have fallen to 
me in pleasant places.” 

“ You have worked hard, Wilton.” 

“ And fared well.” 

“Do you really feel that you have fared 
well ?” 

“Yes sir. Why not ? ” 

“You might have been different, if you 
had had more time with your books. Your 
brothers are getting more schooling than 
you had. You might have been a better 
scholar than you are now. I thought I did 


Glorious. 


231 


all I could for you, but if I had known what 
I know now, I should have tried to do more. 
I expected you would make a good man, but 
I didn’t expect you would get so far beyond 
me. Don’t blame me, Wilton.” 

“ Blame you, father ! I never blamed you 
for a single minute, and I never shall. I 
have had just the training I needed. I need 
an active life ; and unless I am much mis- 
taken, I have thoroughly mastered a business 
which will prove to be as profitable as any in 
the country. What more could I ask ? ” 

You ask more for your brothers.” 

“ No one of them is exactly like what I 
was at his age.” 

“No one of them will ever be what you 
are now. You are the grandest of us all, 
Wilton. It never was my way to praise my 
children much, but I want to tell you, once 
for all, that I am prouder of you, just as you 
are, than I should be if you were the presi- 


232 


Our Homes, 


dent. I know you have learned a good busi- 
ness, and I expect you will be a rich man. 
Likely, too, you will want to live different 
from what we do, but you won’t forget the 
old home, my son.” 

Forget my home ? Never, never, father.” 

“ I know, Wilton. But look. There is 
that boy who follows you like a shadow. He 
has grown plump and strong since he came 
up here. He seems to be doing well at his 
work.” 

“Yes, sir, I think he tries to do the best 
he can. If he had been blessed with a good 
home he would be a smart boy. He evi- 
dently wishes to see me, and if you will ex- 
cuse me, I will go to him.” 

John Beech had business with Mr. Arms, 
and as a result of their short conference, a 
keg of whiskey was discovered where its 
owner thought discovery impossible. Short 
work was made with the liquor, and within a 


Glorious, 


233 


week there were some vacant rooms waiting 
for a new tenant. 

John asked permission to visit his mother 
again, which permission was willingly granted. 
He was better dressed than before. His 
hands and face were tolerably white, and he 
carried with him a sufficient sum of money 
to purchase comfortable food for several 
days. 

“ I declare, I didn’t think you could look 
half so well,” said his boarding mistress. 
“ You don’t look as you did the first time I 
saw you, nor as you did with the blue all on. 
Your own mother wont know you, but you 
can tell her, for me, that you are a good 
boy.” 

‘‘ I try to do as Mr. Arms tells me.” 

''Then you can’t go far wrong. Good- 
bye, and good luck to you.” 

John did not know he was tired, until he 
reached the old house in which he had left 


234 


Our Homes. 


his mother. Then his footsteps lagged. 
The street seemed narrower, the pavements 
grimier, and the people, loitering about, 
more wretched than ever before. He heard 
angry words, saw threatening glances and 
gestures, and knew that no purifying influ- 
ences had been at work there. He looked 
around unrecognized ; saw the very boys 
with whom he had often fought for supre- 
macy, but who now addressed him as swell 
and snob. He climbed the dirty stairway 
and stood in the presence of his mother. 

“I am glad you’ve come,” she said wear- 
ily, after being assured of his identity. 
“ Your father fell down-stairs and broke his 
back, and likely he’s dead by this time. 
The police took him to the hospital and that’s 
all I know. We’ve been most starved, but 
there hain’t anybody pounded us. We’ve 
got to move. We hain’t paid any rent for 
ever so long, and the man says we must go. 


Glorious. 


235 


It’s too bad to tell you so much in a heap, 
but I can’t help it.” 

“ Have you earned any money ? ” 

“Not much, though I’ve earned all we’ve 
had to live on. I might do more, but it ain’t 
any use, unless your father has gone for 
good and all. I know it’s wicked, but I hope 
he won’t ever come back, no matter what 
else happens.” 

“ Are you hungry ? ” asked John, looking 
from his mother to the children, who were 
beginning to realize that he was actually 
their brother. 

“ We are always hungry,” was replied. 

“ I will bring you something,” said the boy, 
glad to escape from the sickening odors of 
the room. 

Once in the open air, he thought of the 
food he had once eaten at Mrs. Darrah’s 
table, and wondered if he could provide as 
good. Somebody knew how to cook much 


236 


Our Homes. 


better than did his mother. John Darrah 
was his first friend, and he would venture to 
ask advice. 

Frale opened the door to a stranger, but 
this time he was not frightened. Everybody 
welcomed the visitor, complimenting his ap- 
pearance, and asking of his welfare. He was 
still an awkward, ignorant boy, but he had 
been taught some lessons he endeavored to 
practice, and at length, after much hesitation, 
he ventured to make known his errand. 

“You have come to the right place,” said 
Bessie encouragingly. “ Tell us how much 
money you can spend, and we will tell you 
how to spend it to the best advantage.” 

In telling this, the trouble in regard to 
rent and moving was told. 

“ I should think you would ask Mr. Arms 
about that,” said John Darrah. “Perhaps 
he could find out if your father is really dead. 
That would make a difference.” 


-Glorious, 


237 


It would make all the di£ference in the 
world. I have wished father was dead a hun- 
dred times, but he has got a soul, the same 
as I have, and he aint fit to die. Perhaps he 
don’t know about his soul. I never heard him 
say anything about it. I didn’t really know 
folks had souls till I heard Mr. Arms talk 
about it one Sunday. He said everybody is 
going to live forever ; so of course father will. 
If folks all knew certain that they had souls, 
they couldn’t be so bad, could they?” 

If they quite realized it, they would be 
more careful to do right,” said Mrs. Darrah in 
reply to this serious question. 

“ I know they couldn’t,” responded John. 
‘‘ Forever is an awful long time to live. 
Where will father be ?” 

No one made answer to this. 

Bessie had calculated how the boy’s funds 
could best be spent, and proposed that he, 
with her brother John, should make the neces- 


238 


Our Homes, 


sary purchases as soon as might be. Cold 
meat from a cheap restaurant near by, brok- 
en bread from the baker’s and coffee ready for 
drinking from the coffee-man. All these 
were carried to Mrs. Beech, who seized them 
eagerly, if she did not receive them gratefully. 

Then John said good-bye, promising to 
see her again in the morning. Six miles was 
a long walk for the tired boy, and he was often 
obliged to rest, but he held on his way, until 
when he thought it almost impossible to take 
another step, he saw a light shining from the 
window of Mr. Arms’ room. As he approach- 
ed the house, he saw Mr. Arms sitting at a 
table writing. He called softly, and his call 
met with quick response. 

“ Who is there ? ” 

“John Beech.” 

“ What is the trouble ? ” 

“ Please let me tell you.” 

A side door was opened, and the boy ad- 


Glorious, 


239 


mitted to the grandest room he had ever en- 
tered. There he told of his father’s accident 
and his mother’s destitution. 

“ If father is dead, couldn’t mother come 
out here and live somewhere, and she work, 
and my brothers too, when they get larger ? 
It won’t be any use, unless father is certain 
dead ; because he would hunt us all up some 
way. ” 

“ I am going to the hospital to-morrow, 
and I will inquire for your father. Then I 
will see what can be done for your mother. 
Now go to your boarding place. Tell Mrs. 
Bruden you have seen me, and I say you 
are all right.” 

Thus comforted and dismissed, John was 
leaving the room, when he turned to ask if 
he might go to the city again in the morn- 
ing. This request granted, he had only to 
thank his friend and retire. As Mr. Arms 
said he was all right, Mrs. Bruden asked no 


240 


Our Homes. 


questions in regard to her boarder’s un- 
expected return. 

How thankful he was for a place of rest, 
even in the low chamber with its scanty 
furnishing ! His last thoughts, and his first 
waking thoughts were of his father. 

Springing from his bed, he dressed hastily, 
and going below stairs, found that a way had 
been provided for him to ride, so that he had 
only a mile to walk in order to reach his des- 
tination. 

He went to his mother’s room, where the 
disorder seemed to him worse than ever be- 
fore. Unwashed dishes stood upon the 
grimed and greasy table. The floor was 
covered with the accumulations of days. He 
did not wonder that his father had found 
some other place preferable to this. 

But his father was in fault no less than his 
mother. He could not reason in regard to 
this, yet he knew only too well that there 


Glorious. 


241 


had been no home for him in the world. His 
mother came from an inner room, with un- 
kempt hair and unwashed face. 

“ Water is plenty and I Jiave some soap 
in my pocket. Do let us be clean for once/’ 
said John a little impatiently. “ If folks are 
poor, they needn’t be dirty. The old woman 
that never moves is always clean, and we 
might be. Come, children, all of you, we 
are going to have a clean breakfast. This 
table and these dishes must be washed.” 

It ain’t any use,” answered Mrs. Beech. 

Poor folks, like us, can’t have things like 
rich ones.” 

“We can be clean;” and with this response, 
John set vigorously to work to prove his 
words true. 

“ I declare, you make me think of your 
father, as he was when we were first married,” 
exclaimed his mother, after watching him 

curiously for a short time. “ He used to find 
16 


242 


Our Homes. 


a sight of fault with me, and vSunday morn- 
ings, he’d begin worse than ever.” 

“ Did he get drunk then ? ” 

“ Not very often. He drinked, but he was 
smart to work, and he liked to have things 
look nice. He wanted good things to eat, 
but I never liked to cook, and he scolded so 
much that, after awhile, I didn’t care whether 
I suited him or not.” 

“ Oh mother, mother, why didn’t you both 
try together !” cried the boy. “ Mr. Arms 
says one can’t make things right alone, any 
more than one can quarrel alone. And here 
are all of us children. What is going to be- 
come of us ?” 

“ I don’t know. I suppose you’ll get along 
somehow.” 

“ But, mother, we have got to live, and 
then we have got to die. We have souls, 
too, that are going to live forever. What 
will become of them ?” 


Glorious, 


243 


Mercy, Brown, don’t talk to me about 
that. I had ’most forgot it ; and it aint likely 
we shall be counted much any way.” 

You will count one soul, mother, and you 
will live forever. Don’t you know it, 
mother ?” 

“ I heard such talk when I was a girl, but 
don’t say any more about it. Give me the 
broom and bring some water. I can clean 
up faster than you can.” 

John was more than willing to yield his 
place. The children were glad to do as he de- 
sired, and when at length they were seated 
around the well-washed table, there was an 
unusual display of cleanliness. 

Later in the day, John Beech met Mr. 
Arms at the door of the mission chapel, when 
he was told that his father had died that 
morning, and would be buried, the next day, 
at the expense of the city. His mother heard 
this with apparent indifference, and when ask- 


244 


Our Homes. 


ed if she wished to look upon her husband 
once more, answered : 

''I don’t .know as I do. He won’t look as 
he used to, and I haint got anything decent 
to wear. Are you going to see him ?” 

“Yes, and I mean to see him buried. He 
was my father, and I’ll do my duty by him 
now he is dead.” 

He would not have recognized the bloated, 
discolored face, but he was sure that the plain 
pine coffin contained all that was mortal of 
Simon Beech. There was little ceremony at 
his funeral, but his son saw where he was laid, 
and marked the spot with a bit of board he 
had brought for that purpose. 

Only a drunkard, whom the world would 
not miss, and for whom his family would not 
mourn. He had lived and died. His old 
haunts would know him no more, yet some- 
where his soul would continue to exist. 

Myriads of drunkards had gone before him, 


Glorious. 


245 


and — alas that it should be true — myriads 
more will follow. 

Is it true that God holds all to strict ac- 
count for sins committed, responsibilities 
ignored, and opportunities wasted ? Is it true 
that there is a day coming, when all shall ap- 
pear before the judgment seat of God, to be 
judged for the deeds done here in the body ? 

True, as God’s word is true, bating not one 
jot or tittle of all its deep significance. 



XIV. 


CLOAKED AND COWLED. 

T was a season of the year when 
water-proof garments and close-fit- 
ting cowls were no longer needed ; 
yet Bessie Darrah saw the same figure, thus 
cloaked and cowled, leaving the next house 
every morning, and returning every evening. 
Later, the light would shine from the upper 
window; and observing this never varying 
routine, the sisters became more and more 
interested in one who seemed so utterly 
alone. 

“ If we could only become acquainted with 
her we might do her good,” said Amy. “ I 
long to help her. I am sure she has a history, 
and I fear it is a sad one. I wish it was 



Cloaked and Cowled. 247 

proper for us to go to her and tell her that 
we think of her, but I suppose we must wait 
until providence opens a way for us to mani- 
fest our sympathy.” 

One evening Amy watched the woman 
walking very slowly, until opposite the street 
door, when she staggered and fell. Here 
was an opportunity, and hastening down the 
stairs, Mrs. Darrah was first to throw back 
the cowl and call for water. 

The woman was in a dead faint, but the 
water restored her to consciousness, when 
she moved her hands nervously, as if seek- 
ing for what she could not find. She must 
once have been handsome, although the deep 
lines in her face told of suffering and self-re- 
pression. She attempted to rise, but her 
strength proved unequal to the effort. 

Come up to our rooms until you are 
better,” said Mrs, Darrah, who was now stand- 
ing beside her. We can help you up the 


248 


Our Homes. 


stairs, and make you comfortable when you 
are once there.” 

“ Thank you. I am sorry to trouble you, 
but I cannot stay here.” 

No one was troubled. On the contrary, 
the stranger soon felt that she was surround- 
ed with friends. 

“ This is too much for me. I am so un- 
used to being cared for,” she murmured, her 
voice half choked with sobs. ‘ ‘ I was used 
to it once, but that was long ago. I have 
lived a life time since then. I have watched 
you many an evening from my window, and 
envied you your happiness because no one of 
you was alone.” 

'‘We have watched your light and wished 
we could call upon you,” was replied kindly. 

A dainty supper was spread for the wel- 
come guest, yet she declined all but a cup of 
tea ; and after resting for an hour, professed 
herself able to go to her room. Bessie ac- 


Cloaked and Cowled. 


249 


companied her, turning back at the door 
without being invited to enter, yet with the 
assurance that they would meet again. 

It was not long before their neighbor came 
to call upon them and repeat her thanks for 
their kindness. Becomingly dressed, she 
looked much younger than they had thought 
her, and when she had gone, each had some 
theory to account for her lonely manner of 
life, no one of which was correct. 

She was intelligent and well educated. 
At the age of sixteen, she had been left an 
orphan, with a brother several years her 
senior. He was her guardian. Her small 
property was in his hands and she trusted 
him implicitly. When she was of age, he 
had not only spent this, but he was himself a 
poor man, with dissipated habits and failing 
health. 

He had proved recreant, also, to other 
trusts. Some old people were beggared 


250 


Our Homes, 


through his dishonesty, and but for the en- 
treaties of his sister, he would have paid the 
penalty of his crime within prison walls. He 
died, but the old people lived on, supported 
by the sister s earnings, 

‘‘I promised I would provide for them as 
long as they lived, unless I could repay them 
what my brother squandered,” she said, after 
having told her story to Mrs. Darrah one 
evening when they were alone. “ They are 
honest and just. They will give me credit 
for every dollar I pay them, but they will 
exact the fulfillment of my promise to the 
last letter. I have already paid more than 
half the debt, and if I live, I shall sometime 
pay it all. But it will be years before then. 
I could not endure to stay where I was known ; 
so I came here, and here I live as economi- 
cally as possible, working and saving.” 

‘‘ It does not seem right that you should 
suffer because your brother has done wrong.” 


Cloaked and Cowled, 


251 


“ It could not be otherwise, Mrs. Darrah. 
Families are so linked together, that if one 
sins, others must suffer. If my brother had 
been a strictly temperate man, I am sure he 
would have been an honest man. My father 
drank wine at his pleasure, and it did not 
seem to injure him, but my brother was not 
like him.” » 

“ It is very hard for you.” 

Very hard, Mrs. Darrah. If a man could 
become a drunkard, going down into the 
depths without dragging others down with 
him, intemperance would be a small evil com- 
pared with what it now is. My lot is hard, 
yet I comfort myself with the thought that it 
is not so hard as that of some of my early 
friends, who married with high hopes of hap- 
pinesS; but who are now the wives of drunk- 
ards, and the mothers of drunkards’ children. 
Anything is better than that. I waited many 
a night for my brother to come home, when 


252 


Our Homes, 


I knew he would come intoxicated, but it 
would have been almost infinitely harder for 
me, had I been thus waiting for my husband.” 

‘‘ So it would, Miss Downing. So it 
would. But I wish you could have more of 
home and social life than you have now.” 

“ I feel as though I had a great deal since 
I have known you. I did not wish to be 
seen by any one ; but I always feel now that 
I have met a friend when I have seen any one 
of your family. I work with better courage, 
and the hard work grows easy.” 

I am so glad we have found her out and 
can help her,” remarked Bessie, when Mrs. 
Darrah repeated Miss Downings story. 

It is wonderful how much good can be 
done with a very small amount of money.” 

“ And a large amount of sympathy,” added 
Amy. “ The four girls in the attic were so 
delighted when we carried them some soup, 
and asked them to go to the chapel with us. 


Cloaked and Cowled 


253 


It cost US very little to do it, but it was worth 
a great deal to them. Poor girls ; and all the 
poorer, because of their ignorance. No won- 
der that Mr. Horton says the nation is what 
the homes of the people make it, and 
that no outside influences can ever fully coun- 
teract unfortunate home teaching or want of 
teaching. 

I used to wish that I was worth a hundred 
thousand dollars ; but I have learned that a 
person worth no more than that is count- 
ed poor by millionaires, while we are rich, 
compared with many of our neighbors.” 

“You are getting to be quite a philoso- 
pher,” said Mrs. Darrah, looking at her young 
daughter with all a mother s fondness. 

They were growing richer every day, be- 
cause of mutual love and helpfulness. They 
were enlarging their circle of acquaintance 
and influence, learning that there is much of 
enjoyment in small, simple pleasures. 


254 


Our Homes, 


Miss Downing, whose light still gleamed 
from the upper window, sometimes shared 
their Sunday evening supper. Once Mr. Al- 
den had made them a long call, as genial 
and courteous as if received in an elegant 
drawing-room. He called to inquire for John, 
who was detained from the store by illness, 
and remained because he pleased to do 
so. 

Miss Blaine came now and then for a 
friendly chat, and she, too, was gaining in 
strength and purity of purpose. The disci- 
pline of her life had been severe, but she now 
never spoke bitterly of it, or of him through 
whom this discipline had come to her. She 
wished to forget all the sorrow he had caused 
her, but she thought kindly of “ Madge,” who 
had loved him to the end, despite cruelty and 
desertion. 

She longed to help this woman, and after 
some struggles with feelings she had not 


Cloaked and Cowled. 


255 


wholly conquered, she addressed a letter to 
the oldest son, Herbert Tubbs. 

A reply came soon, fairly written, and ex- 
pressing a grateful sense of the kindness 
shown to his mother. As for himself, his 
plans were not matured, beyond a determina- 
tion to do all that he could. His mother’s 
health was giving way, so that the care of the 
family would devolve more upon him. They 
were all trying to do theirjDest, and he hoped 
the younger children would have a better 
chance in life than he had. But however 
that might be, 

God knows all about it, and He will do 
right ” 

Thus closed the letter, and to the writer, 
this was the conclusion of the whole matter. 

Poor Madge ! A strong, true-hearted girl 
had given herself to the man she loved, ex- 
pecting to find with him the full fruition of 
her fondest hopes. She was neither elegant 


256 


Our Homes, 


nor refined, but her love ‘was no less true and 
tender. She was able and willing to work, 
yet she felt her husband’s neglect as keenly 
as does the woman who knows nothing of 
exhausting toil. 

Her son would have , saved her from the 
humiliation to which she subjected herself in 
seeking his father, but he never reproached 
her for setting aside his wishes. Now that 
her health seemed failing, he provided her 
with every comfdfrt it was in his power to 
bestow. 

Miss Blaine submitted his letter to Mr. 
and Mrs. Horton, who read it approvingly. 

“ He seems to be a dutiful son and a con- 
sistent Christian,” said the gentleman. 

“ He is sure God will do right.” 

“/am sure God will do right, but I think he 
intends we shall do our part ; and I am by no 
means sure that I am doing my duty by that 
family. I can send Mrs. Tubbs a hundred 


Cloaked and Cowled. 


257 


dollars, without missing it from my yearly in- 
come. It costs me very little to support my 
house. I allow Mrs. Musgrove to manage 
the kitchen and dining-room as she pleases, 
and I am astonished at the smallness of her 
bills. She gives away a great deal too. At 
least, she says that she does, and I believe 
she is the happiest woman of my acquaint- 
ance.” 

** She feels that she is accomplishing some- 
thing for others as well as herself ; not work- 
ing like a machine, day after day and week 
after week. Such work is drudgery.” 

“ I am sure it must be, Mrs. Horton, al- 
though I never used to think about it. I 
have learned that Mrs. Musgrove is a very 
intelligent woman, as well as a good house- 
keeper. She told me, last week, that she 
had shared in the experience of so many 
women who are the wives of drunkards. 


•17 


25 ^ 


Our Homes. 


But I must not stay longer. I am glad you 
think as I do about helping Madge.” 

It was after a hard day’s work that Her- 
bert Tubbs received a letter, enclosing a 
check for one hundred dollars, to be ex 
pended as he pleased. The sender assured 
him that she could well spare the amount, 
and that she trusted both his judgment and 
integrity. In conclusion, she wrote : 

“ I do not know if you are like your father 
in looks or appearance ; but if you are a 
Christian, as your mother believes you to be, 
you are not like him in character. Whatever 
else you may do, or leave undone ; as you 
value all you hold dear on earth, and all you 
hope for in Heaven, touch not the accursed 
drink.” 

“ She must be a Christian,” said the boy 
aloud, and hastened to his mother with the 
good news. Now we can hire that place 


Cloaked and Cowled. 


259 


in the country, and you will grow strong and 
well,” he exclaimed joyfully. 

“ But, Herbert, how can I take that wom- 
an s money ?” 

As she has sent it. We will try to repay 
her by and by. I know she wants us to use 
it. We cannot lose you, mother, and I am 
so anxious to get the children into a better 
neighborhood. I will tell Miss Blaine just 
how you feel about it.” 

Miss Blaine’s second letter was even more 
explicit than the first. Mrs. Tubbs must con- 
sent to accept the benefit of this money and 
rest from all work. 

Dear heart,” murmured the recipient of 
so much kindness. “ We must pray for her 
every day, and ask God to make up to her 
for all she has missed. I don’t wonder she 
charged you not to touch the cursed drink. 
You look like your father, and you have 
ways like him, but you have got something 


26 o 


Our Homes, 


in your heart he never had in his. O my son, 
I know you love God, and try to live accord- 
ing to his word.” 

“ I do, mother, I certainly do.” 

I am thankful for it, but it hurts me to 
think you had to go away from home to learn 
your duty. Children ought to get the best 
of all they need at home.” 

“We have had a good mother.” 

“ I tried to do as well as I knew, but I was 
ignorant and worried.” 

“ Never mind that now, mother. We will 
all begin new, and see how much better we 
can do. You know it is never too late to 
mend, so long as there is enough to hold the 
patches together, and I think we shall hold 
together a-while longer. I have been pray- 
ing that some way would be provided for us 
to go into the country, and now that my 
prayer has been answered, I am so thankful, 

I hardly know what to say.” 


XV. 

RESPECTABLE. 

EFORE autumn, the firm of Maxon 
& Cummings was well established in 
business, prospering beyond the 
most sanguine expectations. 

Mr. M axon’s home expenses were so small 
as to be a constant surprise to him, yet his 
table was well spread, and his family well 
dressed. His house, too, was handsomly fur- 
nished ; as even Mrs. Thaxter acknowledged, 
when spending a day with her mother and 
sisters. 

“ This heavy old mahogany furniture is 
very stylish,” she said languidly. “ It is fash- 
ionable now, the same as are the heavy bro- 
cade silks our grandmothers used to wear.” 



262 


Omy Homes. 


“ I don’t believe our grandmothers ever 
wore heavy brocade silks,” replied Emma. 
“ You know we come of plebeian stock, 
although Aunt Jane says the Maxons were 
always respectable, and that is a great com- 
fort.” 

“ What does she mean by respectable ?” 

“ She means a great deal. The term re- 
spectable is very comprehensive, including 
honest, honorable, self-respecting and tem- 
perate. A person who has not all these 
qualities is not respectable, according to 
Aunt Jane’s standard.” 

“ Other people may have different stand- 
ards. I suppose Cornie Harriman has been 
here.” 

“ She was here two weeks in the early 
summer, and we made the time a real work- 
ing holiday. We accomplished a large 
amount of work and enjoyed a large amount 
of pleasure.” 


Respectable. 


263 


“ She is getting to be quite the fashion. It 
is said she has refused quite an eligible offer 
of marriage. Did she speak of it?” 

“ Only as mother referred to it. Then she 
only said if she ever married, it would be a 
love match on her side ; and she should ask 
full measure of love in return.” 

** She will do well to have regard to more 
than sentiment.” 

“It will require a great deal to call forth 
true sentiment from her. A man must pos- 
sess sterling qualities, to win her favor. I 
always thought her brilliant and very lovely, 
but I never felt really acquainted with her 
until she was here.” 

“ She is a very fine girl, but they must be 
very poor.” 

“ Not so poor as they have been. Cornie 
said they had learned to accommodate them- 
selves to their circumstances, and know where 
they can save at the least sacrifice of comfort. 


264 


Our Homes, 


She said, too, that there is more economy 
practised than people see. It is so elegant, 
that no one suspects its presence.” 

“ Elegant economy !” 

“That is just what it is. That is what we 
are practising,” said the younger sister, look- 
ing around upon the appointments of her 
home with much complacency. 

“ I am glad I am not obliged to practise 
it,” was replied. 

“I am glad for you, Garrie, if you are 
happy.” 

“ Why should I not be happy ? No one 
gainsays my wishes or denies my requests. 
I am looking forward to the gayest winter of 
my life.” 

“ Mother and I are looking forward to a 
busy, happy winter. We shall be much alone, 
but we shall not be lonely. Hal will be in the 
store, and George is studying hard, that he 
may try his hand at book-keeping next year.” 


Respectable. 


265 


‘‘ I thought the boys would go to college.” 

“ Perhaps they might have gone if we 
had lived on in the old style. They should 
go now if they cared for it. Father would 
manage to send them, but they have discover- 
ed that they have no particular taste for the 
classics and higher mathematics, and they 
cannot afford to spend four years for the 
name of being a college graduate. They are 
fair scholars, and Hal has the foundation of a 
good business education. They are good 
workers, too, so we are all quite satisfied with 
the choice they have made.” 

“ So my brothers are to be only common 
workers.” 

“We expect them to be uncommon work- 
>) 

ers. 

I suppose Aunt Jane had them under 
tutelage while they were with her.” 

Of course she had an influence over them, 
as father hoped she would have. The truth 


266 


Our Homes. 


is, Garrie, they had some foolish notions of 
independence and gentility which were likely 
to prove unfortunate for them and unpleasant 
for others. Father thought a visit to Aunt 
Jane might correct some of these notions, 
and he was not disappointed.” 

Aunt Jane must be a wonderful woman.” 

She is. Father says if she had com- 
menced business as a merchant when she was 
young, she would have accumulated a large 
fortune. She is a shrewd manager, and so 
good too. She just carried the burdens of 
the family when she was with us, and seemed 
in no way troubled by them.” 

“ I have not seen her for more than ten 
years, but I always think of her as a homely, 
disagreeable old maid.” 

“ She is an old maid, but she is neither 
homely nor disagreeable. She has an abun- 
dance of lovely gray hair, and she will enter- 
tain a child, or a clergyman, with equal grace. 


Respectable, 267 

She is not a fine lady, but a noble true- 
hearted Christian woman. The boys were 
delighted with her, and already talk of next 
summer’s vacation, they hope to spend with 
her.” 

''You are so charmed with Aunt Jane, I 
wonder you did not go with the boys.” 

" I wished to go, but I could not leave 
father and mother. Mother feels the change 
in our fortunes more than I do.” 

‘' It must be dreadful for her. I hope you 
will not live in this style very long. If father 
is successful, you can have a new house in 
the city, and people will soon forget that you 
have been poor.” 

" I shall not be anxious to have them for- 
get it. Father was scrupulously honest and 
honorable through it all. No one has lost 
by him. He has paid his debts in full, and 
we have done the best we could. Why 
should we be ashamed ? We are not so very 


268 


Our Homes. 


poor either. We are in very comfortable 
circumstances. We have received calls from 
some very pleasant people, this summer, and 
enjoyed them too.” 

“ For all that, you are quite out of the 
world,” said Mrs. Thaxter, who seemed re- 
solved that her sister should look on the dark 
side of the family fortunes. 

“ I have learned that there are several 
worlds,” replied Emma with persistent good- 
nature. “ There is one in which royalty 
dwells alone in grand isolation. There is 
another, where the nobility of rank and title 
reign supreme. In our country, there are mil- 
lionaires who look down upon all monied aris- 
tocracy which counts its wealth only by hun- 
dreds of thousands. Then there are grades, 
all the way down to abject poverty ; so many 
worlds, one is sure to find a place somewhere, 
and a very nice place it may be too. The best 
and most refined people are not the richest.” 


Respectable. 269 ' 

Emma Maxon, where did you read 
that ?” 

I really cannot tell. I am not sure that 
I read it. I think the truth has been gradu- 
ally dawning upon me ; and as I cannot, by 
any amount of scheming or sacrifice of comfort, 
gain admittance to the circle of royalty, I 
am resolved to make myself comfortable with 
what I can conveniently have. People can 
be very happy, if they are not so rich as their 
neighbors.” 

“You must have talked these things over 
with Cornie Harriman.” 

We talked a great deal, and settled seve- 
ral questions of social economy quite to our 
own satisfaction. She said she should go 
back to her home, stronger and happier for 
having been here, and I am sure she brought 
a blessing with her when she came. Mother 
said she never saw her more agreeable and 
entertaining than she was then. Everybody 


Our Homes, 


270 

has not forsaken her either. Mr. and Mrs. 
Palmer called on her a few weeks ago.” 

“What ! Miss Bayliss and her husband !” 

“ Yes. Why not? They were old friends.” 

“ But everything is so changed. She must 
have been very much mortified, to receive 
them in her little parlor.” 

“ I don’t believe she was at all mortified. 
Why, Garrie, do you think only rich people 
have a right to live ?” 

“ What a question ! One would think you 
were practising for a public display of your 
ability as a disputant. You have led me 
along until I hardly know where I am. We 
shall never think alike, but we need not be at 
variance.” 

“No indeed, Garrie, I am too glad to see 
you, to wish to waste time in unpleasant dis- 
cussions ; but, sister, I think you have led the 
discussion.” 

“ I presume I have. It is easy to drift with 


Respectable, 


271 


the current, even if it is noiseless. I must 
say, Emma, you have done admirably in as- 
sisting mother. She says she could not have 
endured what she has without you.” 

“ I have tried to help her. You know the 
oldest daughter’s place is one of great re- 
sponsibility ; and as you were away, the re- 
sponsibilities fell upon me.” 

So far as could be seen, Clayborne Thaxter 
was living the same careless, dissipated life as 
when a bachelor, while his wife seemed in 
no way troubled by his dissipation. His 
aunt, Mrs. Edmonds, was disappointed and 
chagrined at this state of affairs. 

Clayborne’s wife ought to restrain him,” 
she said to her brother. “ I believe he is 
drinking worse than ever, and at this rate he 
will squander his entire property.” 

‘‘ Why not speak to his wife about it?” 
was responded by the brother. “ Perhaps she 
does not know his habits as well as you do.” 


2J2 


Our Homes, 


“ She must know them better than I do. 
Men like him never take the trouble to act 
the role of hypocrite with their wives. I 
hoped they would go to housekeeping this 
winter, but he prefers boarding, and she says 
she has no choice but to please him. She is 
very different from what I expected she 
would be.” 

This difference was a sore trial to Mrs. 
Edmonds. She was not called upon for 
sympathy or counsel. 

“You are grand as a duchess, Garrie, and 
I heartily admire you for it,” said Mr. Thax- 
ter, one evening, after returning from a party, 
in which his family friends shone conspic- 
uously. “ Aunt Edmonds finds you intract- s 
able, and I admire you for that too. She. 
always wished to manage me and my affairs, 
and she was very anxious that I should, 
marry. She probably thought that one more 
loyal subject would be added to her train, 


Respectable. 2 73 

and I am glad she has found herself mista- 
ken.” 

“ I am glad if you admire me,” replied 
Mrs. Thaxter to her husband’s compliment- 
ary speech. 

“You deserve my admiration,” he re- 
sponded. “ I don’t know of another woman 
in the world who would suit me as well as 
you do. Here is to a long life together and 
discomfiture to all our enemies.” 

Saying this, he raised to his lips a glass of 
fiery brandy. Possibly, had his wife laid her 
white jewelled hand upon his, with such 
words as a loving woman knows how to 
speak, she might have persuaded him to 
leave the brandy untasted, but she did no 
such thing. She only thanked him for the 
compliment he had paid her, wondering if it 
was possible that he would ever love her, and 
thinking how troublesome such love might 

prove to be. 

18 


Our Homes, 


274 

His admiration gratified her vanity, but 
she had no desire for his love. Only their 
mutual indifference made life tolerable for her. 
She neither knew nor wished to know any- 
thing of her husband’s financial interests. 
The Thaxters had always been wealthy, and 
she assumed that they always would be. 

Yet she had learned, as had her sister, that 
there were different worlds in society. Her 
husband was not the richest man in the city. 
Her jewels paled in luster before those of 
some other ladies whom she met. There 
were heights above her, she might never 
reach. 

She schooled herself to a stereotyped ele- 
gance of demeanor, yet mentally, she was 
restless and dissatisfied. Even the gayety, 
into which she plunged with something like 
enthusiasm, began to pall upon her. There 
were memories struggling in her heart which 
would not down at her bidding. 


Respectable, 


275 


Elden Cummings was a rising man whose 
ability was already recognized, and whom she 
had met on one occasion, when the contrast 
between him and her husband was greatly in 
his favor. Her husband, also, was disposed 
to praise him, congratulating her that her 
father had so competent a partner. 

“It will not be strange if he should marry 
Emma, and so come into the family,” re- 
marked Mr. Thaxter. “ People say he has 
made his way up to where he is now by hard 
work, and it is not likely he will stop until he 
has gone further. I should not object to him 
for a brother-in-law, should you Carrie ? ” 

“ I object to nothing which transpires,” she 
answered with such well-feigned indifference, 
that the conversation was not continued. 



XVL 

SIN OF SINS. 

R. ARMS, I had the pleasure of 
listening to your temperance ad- 
dress, last Sabbath evening, and 
while I admired your earnestness, I could not 
quite endorse either your premises or conclu- 
sions. If I understood you aright, you con- 
sider the use of alcoholic drinks, the sin of 
sins.” 

“ Pardon me, sir, I do not so consider it, 
but I believe and know that it is the exciting 
cause to some of the most terrible sins and 
fearful crimes committed in our country.” 

‘'People are not perfect even when ab- 
staining as strictly as you would have them. 
There would be sin and crime in the world, 



Sin of Sins. 


277 


if there was never another drop of alcohol 
distilled. It seems to me that some of you 
radical reformers are going too far. Nei- 
ther temperance nor total abstinence can 
take the place of religion.” 

“ I know of no one who expects that, but 
gospel temperance can do much towards sus- 
taining religion. In fact, it seems to me like 
a part of religion. Other things equal, a 
strictly temperate man is much more likely 
to place himself under religious influences 
than one who tarries long at the wine or the 
whiskey. Alcoholic stimulants are not calcu- 
lated to inspire feelings of reverence or devo- 
tion.” 

“ I do not claim that they' are, or that their 
use should be encouraged. I only claim that 
there are other evils besides intemperance, 
for the suppression of which good men should 
labor and pray. It seems to me that in work- 
ing for this, other claims upon our interest 


278 


Our Homes. 


are forgotten. You know, too, that some of 
our best men approve the moderate use of 
wine.” 

“ How is it in regard to cheaper liquors ? 
The majority of our people cannot indulge in 
the use of wine. They cannot afford to 
spend a dime which does not purchase what 
is actually necessary to their own comfort or 
the comfort of their families. If they use any 
alcoholic stimulant, it must be cheap. Would 
you, sir, approve of any poor man drinking 
whiskey ?” 

“ Certainly not, unless ordered by a physi- 
cian. I would banish all such fiery drinks.” 

“ I would banish everything which can in- 
toxicate, coarse or fine, fiery or mild,” said 
Wilton Arms with strong emphasis. “ I am 
willing to believe that you, and others who 
express like opinions, are sincere ; but I am 
sure that you are mistaken in your judg- 
ment. 


Sin of Sins. 


279 

“We wish to treat the subject fairly and 
without prejudice, Mr. Arms.” 

“ Yes, sir. Only this morning, I read of a 
dinner, given in honor of some distinguished 
man, at which were provided eight varie- 
ties of wine ; and this was noticed as a munifi- 
cent provision. Of course, there are but few, 
compared with the masses of our people, who 
can afford such an outlay. I presume not one 
of the gentlemen present became intoxicated, 
and possibly not one was materially injured 
by the wine he drank ; but his example was 
on the wrong side, and therefore he was 
guilty of a misdemeanor. What would be 
thought of a party of working men, who 
should sit down to a social dinner, with eight 
varieties of cheap liquor on the table before 
them ?” 

“ There would probably be a great amount 
of drunkenness, which everybody must depre- 
cate. Such men seem to have less of self- 


28 o 


Out Homes. 


control and a fine sense of the fitness of 
things, than those more favored by education 
and culture.” 

“ Men of culture and education often lose 
self-control. All the drunkards of the coun- 
try are not among the poor and ignorant. 
Some who have gone down into the lowest 
depths, and tarried there until death released 
them; have been born and nurtured in elegant 
homes. They have learned their first lessons 
in intemperance in the home circle. If a 
man drinks wine, he must expect his son to 
follow his example ; and the number who can 
drink moderately, for a term of years, or for 
life, decreases with every generation.” 

“ I have heard that remarked before, and 
it does sometimes seem that, in the hurry and 
rush of this fast age, moderation in any form 
is well nigh impossible. You have studied 
this subject thoroughly, Mr. Arms.” 

I have given it much attention, and I have 


Sin of Sins, 


281 


been so situated, that I have seen the effects 
of intemperance upon working men and their 
families. Total abstinence was bred in the 
bone with me. One of the first Bible les- 
sons I can remember as taught me by my 
mother had for its subject the vow of the 
Rechabites. She told me the story, and then 
she read it to me from the Bible. Then she 
talked it to me, while I asked the usual 
amount of questions.” 

“ And that was your first Bible lesson, Mr. 
Arms ?” 

“ It is the first which I distinctly remem- 
ber. When my mother first taught me my 
relations to God and the Saviour, I do not 
know, but it must have been as soon as I 
could comprehend the meaning of her 
words.” 

“ Then you are greatly indebted to home 
influences for what you are.” 

“ For all I am and all I hope to be ; and yet 


282 


Our Homes. 


my parents are poor, hard-working people, 
as everybody knows. But I did not intend 
to talk of myself. I may have seemed presum- 
ing in expressing my convictions so confident- 
ly ; but when challenged, I must give a rea- 
son for the faith which is in me.” 

That is what I wished to hear. Excuse 
me, but I have had a curiosity to know how 
you have accomplished so much in other direc- 
tions, while regularly employed in manual 
labor. Nature must have been prodigal of 
her gifts to you.” 

“ I have no reason to complain of her gifts. 
I come of a strong, sturdy race. For three 
generations on my mother’s side, the fami- 
lies have been pledged to total abstinence. 
On my father’s side, temperance has been the 
rule. My grandfather was as teetotal as my 
father. So you see that, in the way of an- 
cestry, I have a great advantage over young 
men who, while born to large wealth, inherit 


Sm of Sins, 283 

with it a predisposition to weak indulgences 
and unfortunate appetites.” 

“ Then you must believe in the power of 
inherited tendencies and home influences.” 
“ I do believe in them, sir, with all my heart. 
The responsibility of parents in the training 
of their children can not be over estimated. 
Mission schools and mission work can ac- 
complish comparatively little to compensate 
for deficient home training. Pardon me, sir, 
but I think if you should spend a year with 
some devoted city missionary, you would be 
nearly ready to denounce intemperance as 
the sin of sins.” 

“ It cannot be that all the poverty and desti- 
tution are the result of dram-drinking.” 

“ A very large proportion of it is. A poor 
man or a poor woman is not necessarily un- 
happy or uncomfortable, if the most is made 
of such resources as are at command. 
Homely comforts are often more enjoyable 


284 


Our Homes, 


than luxurious elegance, and cheap pleasures 
are sometimes more satisfactory than those 
purchased at large expense. If my father 
had been a whiskey or beer tippler, and my 
mother had allowed her house to be in dis- 
order from morning until night, do you be- 
lieve their children would have had a fair 
chance for happiness and usefulness in life ? ” 

“ I do not believe you could have been 
what you are now.” 

I know I could not. There are thous- 
ands of girls and boys growing up all over 
our land, cheated of their natural birthright, 
because their fathers drink whiskey or wine, 
according to taste or means. I know that all 
homes are not nurseries of virtue and religion, 
even where there is temperance of the strict- 
est sort ; but no home can be what it should 
be without this.” 

“ Your earnestness will win many, Mr. 
Arms; and I thank you for having expressed 


Sin of Sins, 285 

yourself with such manly frankness. I thank 
you, too, for the glimpse you have given me 
of your home life.” 

The clergyman who had sought this inter- 
view with Wilton Arms, and who expressed 
his thanks thus cordially, had been disposed 
to criticise somewhat the young man’s me- 
thods of working. Not quite willing to place 
a ban upon wine at all times and under all 
circumstances, he allowed himself to dream 
of a compromise. But compromise found no 
favor with the sturdy son of sturdy parents, 
who knew whereof he affirmed, and who was 
secure in the friendship of those to whom he 
had shown himself friendly. 

There was not a man, woman, or child in 
the vicinity of the mill who did not feel his 
influence, and rejoice when he was promoted 
to a higher position with a largely increased 
salary. 

His new duties brought him in contact 


/ 


286 Our Homes. 

with experienced business men, who, judging 
from their own standpoint, heartily endorsed 
him. He knew how to adjust seemingly con- 
flicting interests, and being familiar with 
every part of the mill, he could detect the 
slightest failure in any department. 

The goods manufactured commanded a 
ready sale in the market, and it was decided 
to build another mill with all the latest im- 
provements in machinery, the entire work to 
be under the supervision of Wilton Arms. 

Wilton has always been lucky,” said an 
old acquaintance to his father. “I haint seen 
him before to-day, since he and Crandall 
went to school together, but he has got the 
same eyes he had then. He has stayed right 
along here with you, but luck has come to 
him. It does to some folks. Folks used to 
say my Crandall was the brightest when they 
were boys, but he has always had bad luck. 
Been sick some, and out of work sometimes. 


Sin of Sins, 


287 


Strange what makes such a difference be- 
tween folks, when you can’t see any good 
reason for it. Now you are doing the same 
kind of work you did when I worked with 
you.” 

*'Yes, and in the same place too. I have 
lost but very little time either. My health 
has been good, and with my family, I needed 
to work. My yrife and I have kept busy, 
and enjoyed what we could as we went 
along.” 

“ They say you own your house.” 

“Yes, the main part of it. I rather think 
Wilton pwns the corners, although I hold it 
all in my name.” 

“ Don’t you ever get tired of staying right 
here ? ” 

“ No, Friend Holson. Why should I ? I 
expect to live and die here ; working as long 
as I am able, and then resting till the end. 
If it is God’s will, I hope wife and I shall live 


288 


Our Homes, 


to see our children all grown up and well 
started in life.” 

“You haint put the others to work as 
young as you did Wilton.” 

“No, I am better off than I was twenty 
years ago. Then I was paying rent for this 
house, and providing for my old mother.” 

“ I know you were, and I used to wonder 
how you could do it, when it was all I could 
do to make the ends of the year tneet, and 
my family smaller than yours too.” 

“We couldn’t have done it, if we had not 
been careful of our expenses. My wife and 
I never intended to spend a penny for what 
was not necessary. We always gave some- 
thing for the support of religion and charity,' 
but this was necessary and a duty.” 

“ We calculated to be careful about spend- 
ing. You always lived better and dressed 
better than we did. I never could see how 
you did it.” 


Sin of Sins. 


289 


My wife managed that part. She knew 
how to take a stitch in time, and take it in 
the right place too. Her mother was a no- 
table housekeeper, and she is like her 
mother.” 

“My wife haint been a bad housekeeper, 
Mr. Arms, but some way there was always 
something wanting. Do you expect your 
girls to be as good managers as their 
mother ? ” 

“ She calculates they shall be. They have 
been serving their apprenticeship. All that 
are old enough can wash, iron, cook, make 
and mend ; and if necessary, they can earn 
their living at any one of these trades.” 

“ And they are good scholars too.” 

“Yes, Wilton has been a great help to them 
about that. He understands what they need 
better than I do, and he has spent a good 
deal of money for them first and last.” 

“Well, Mr. Arms, you are a lucky man. 

19 / 


290 


Our Homes. 


Now there is Crandall never gets ahead any, 
and sometimes don’t hardly pay his way. It 
seems as though he meant to do about as 
well as he can too. Now I wish you would 
tell me where the trouble is. What makes 
the difference ? ” ^ 

“Well, Friend Holson, I think I can tell 
you where a good deal of the trouble lays, 
but I don’t know as you will believe me. 
You remember we used to have a good 
many talks about using ale and porter. You 
thought a working man needed a glass some- 
times, and I thought he was better off with- 
out it. So you drank ale and porter, while I 
drank tea and coffee, with a good deal of cold 
water.” 

“I never drank to excess; not enough to 
make any great difference between us,” said 
Mr. Holson, yet speaking with some hesita- 
tion. 

“The difference would have paid for a 


Sin of Sins. 


291 


home for yourself and family ; and you were 
always so handy with tools, you could almost 
have built your house and furnished it.” 

Mr. Arms, do you think there was where 
I made my mistake ? ” 

“ I do think so, Friend Holson. It is apt 
to take a good deal of time to drink even a 
little, and that is so much wasted. Didn’t you 
ever think so yourself? ” 

“ I have been afraid of it. As I grow 
older, things look different to me from what 
they used to. But if I made a mistake there, 
I made it for my boys too. They do as I 
did. Crandall drinks more than I did at his 
age. He has been keeping company with a 
nice girl, but he can’t afford to be married. 
Lately, too, she has got some new temper- 
ance notions, and I don’t know but that will 
make a break between them.” 

“If he does not care more for her than for 
his drams, she ought not to marry him. I 


292 


Our Homes. 


remember him as a smart, bright boy. He 
ought to have a little property by this time, 
unless he has been helping others.” 

“ I don’t know of his helping anybody, I 
have helped him more than he has ever 
helped me. To tell the truth, I don’t hardly 
know how we have lived the last few years. 
My wife has worked hard, and she is almost 
discouraged. We haint ever been so well off 
as we were here, and I don’t know but the 
best thing we can do is to come back, if we 
can get a chance to work. I saw Wilton 
this morning, but he didn’t knQw me.” 

“ Did you speak to him ? ’ 

“ No. He had half a dozen gentlemen 
with him, and I knew it wa’n’t any time for 
me. My wife would be glad to come back. 
I don’t know how Crandall would feel about 
it, but he must look out for himself” 

There is work enough to be done here, 
and I don’t doubt but Wilton will help you 


Sin of Sins. 


293 


to a job, but he don’t allow drinking men 
’round him. He generally has his way about 
such things. The owners don’t interfere with 
him. You could turn your hand to almost 
any kind of work.” 

“Yes, and so could Crandall. It is likely 
to me he would be glad to come. His wages 
were cut down, and he wouldn’t bear that. 
So he has been out of work for a month.” 

“ Mr. Holson, Wilton.” 

“ Oh yes, I remember him,” said the young 
man in response to his father’s introduction 
of their old neighbor, and it did not take long 
to settle the matter of employment. 

“ I suppose you will want me to sign a 
pledge not to drink any kind of liquor,” re- 
marked Mr. Holson, after other arrange- 
ments had been discussed. 

“ I think I shall trust to your honor for 
that,” was replied. “ We are all teetotallers 
here ; or if not, we are careful to seem so. 


294 


Our Homes. 


Most of us are pledged, but we never insist 
upon that, except where a man has been in 
the habit of drinking liquor. Then we per- 
suade him to sign the pledge, and give him 
a chance to show what he can do.” 

“Well, I guess I better sign. I had about 
made up my mind to it before I came here, 
and talking with your father has set things in 
a clear light. When I go back for my family 
I want to tell my boys that I have turned 
over a new leaf.” 

The pledge was presented and signed. 

“ Now would you have a chance for Cran- 
dall, if he should conclude to come here and 
try to do as well as he can ?” asked Mr. Hol- 
son. “ He is a good workman, and he can 
do more than ’most anybody else, if things go 
to suit him. But someway, he wants things 
different from a good many. He is hard to 
be suited.” 

“ Perhaps he needs to sign the pledge.” 


Sin of Sins, 


295 


He does, Mr. Arms. There aint any use 
in denying it. I have known it a good while, 
but I hoped he would get married and have 
a wife to look after him.” 

“ I should advise a friend of mine to find 
some better employment than looking after a 
man who needs watching, to keep him from 
drinking liquor. She would do better to take 
a place in the mill, where she can earn fair 
wages to spend as she pleases. Unless 
Crandall is a strictly temperate man, he has 
no right to ask any woman to marry him.” 

Is that the way you look at it ?” 

It certainly is, Mr. Holson. It is not 
necessary to be rich, or even very well off, to 
have a pleasant, happy home. But if a man 
cares more for wine, gin, whiskey, or beer, as 
the case may be, than he does for the comfort 
of the woman he professes to love^ he is a 
trial and vexation of spirit. After what you 
have told me, I think I should insist upon 


296 


Our Homes, 


Crandall’s signing the pledge before giving 
him employment. You may say to him 
from me that he can have a job here, and I 
will do as well as I can by him, if he will 
help me in my temperance and Sunday 
School work. We shall be having a new 
church building here soon, to accommodate 
our increased number of workmen, and we 
must have a care as to whom we employ. We 
ought to be able to man our own church 
from our own numbers.” 

“ Crandall used to go to Sunday School, 
and take pains to learn his lessons.” 

“ I know he did. He was in the same class 
with me. I have never missed a Sunday since 
then unless detained by illness, and I hope 
he has been as constant as I have.” 

I wish he had,” said the father under his 
breath, as he walked away. “ I wish he had, 
but he w^a’n’t brought up in such a home as 
Wilton Arms was. I let things go easy, 


Sin of Sins. 297 

and thought they would all come out right, 
but I was mistaken. It is pretty late for a man 
to begin new when he is fifty-five years old, 
but there is a good deal left of me yet. I am 
bound to do the best I can, the rest of my 
life, and I know my wife will help me. I see 
it all now. I might have had as good a home 
as Mr. Arms has. I might have had it, — I 
will have it.” 



XVIL 


PEACE AND REST. 

HERE was nothing attractive about 
the place, except that it was in the 
country, unless the large apple tree 
standing on the south side of the house was 
an attraction. 

Besides this, there was not a tree on the 
half acre lot. Some scraggy lilac bushes, 
with a tangle of wild rose bushes and sweet- 
brier were the only shrubbery. But the ram- 
bling old house was in the country, and Her- 
bert Tubbs could not remember when he had 
not longed for a home in the country. There 
was plenty of room. The children were de- 
lighted ; counting themselves rich in empty 
chambers, and a garret where -former tenants 



Peace and Rest 299 

had left an accumulation of broken chairs, 
ricketty tables, and battered tin pans. These 
last possessions were brought to the light 
and carefully examined ; some pronounced 
worth repairing, and some condemned as 
utterly worthless. 

The rent of this place was paid for a year, 
and a cow bought with money sent by Miss 
Blaine ; and after this was done, there still re- 
mained something over. 

Now we must set to work in good earn- 
est,” said Mrs. Tubbs, when they had been a 
week in their new quarters. “ I feel 
stronger than I have before for a long time. 
I must tell you what came to me last night, 
Herbert. I lay awake, thinking over what a 
hard time I have had, and how I had been 
disappointed in almost everything I had 
wanted, till all at once it seemed as though 
somebody said to me : ‘ Christ died for you 

and now lives to make intercession for you.’ 


300 


Our Homes. 


I suppose I always knew that, but it sounded 
different to me from what it ever did before. 
I got up out of bed and kneeled down in the 
moonlight and asked God to take me just as 
I was, and make me glad with the peace I 
have heard the minister talk about and that I 
know you have.” 

“ And mother 

“ It has come, Herbert. I don’t know just 
when, but it has come.” 

“ Let us thank God,” said the boy, and he 
kneeled down with his mother beside him. 

Few words were spoken ; but heart answer- 
ed to heart, while over all brooded the spirit 
of the invisible God. 

“ I want to ask your forgiveness,” said the 
woman, turning to her son as they rose from 
their knees. “I have left too much for you 
to do, and I have made it harder for you by 
looking on the dark side ; but it seemed as 
though I could not help it. I know I shall be 


Peace and Rest. 


301 


well again now and do my part. I have given 
up your father. I have left him with God, 
and the load has gone from my heart.” 

We must live, and do the best we can, 
mother, even if others do wrong. God will 
deal justly with us all.” 

“ He will, my son, and he has done so 
much for us. Perhaps if I had always pray- 
ed—” 

‘‘ That is in the past, mother. Leave 
that.” 

“ I will. I won’t go back. I want you to 
write to Miss Blaine, and tell her a great 
peace, such as I never expected, has settled 
down on me. Tell her, too, that I love her 
more and more every day. I wish I could 
see her. I can’t write well enough to write 
to anybody like her, but you can.” 

Miss Blaine found herself welcoming this 
letter with an eagerness at which she won- 
dered ; yet this did not make her unmindful 


302 


Our Homes* 


of the fact that it was a much more elegant 
epistle than she had before received. 

The writer had come under a new influ- 
ence which roused him to a consciousness of 
his many deficiencies. He had worked hard 
and fared hard. In addition to this, he had 
been saved as by a miracle from intemperate 
habits, even in his early boyhood. 

A poor woman, so poor that she could not 
often give to another so much as a crust of 
bread, had given him his first religious in- 
struction ; so impressing him with a sense of 
his relations and obligations to God, that his 
whole nature seemed changed. He studied 
the Bible as he had never studied any other 
book. He listened to sermons and attended 
social meetings whenever opportunity offer- 
ed. He was thoughtful for his mother and 
solicitous for the interests of his brother and 
sisters. 

Beyond this, he had no positive ambition ; 


Peace and Rest. 


303 


but when he attempted a reply to Miss 
Blaine’s first letter, he realized his ignorance, 
and with the determination which character- 
ized him, he resolved upon self-improvement. 

“I wish I could see him,” soliloquized the 
reader of his last letter. “ I wish I could see 
them all. I thought I could never bear the 
sight of Madge, but I wish now I could see 
her. A great peace has come to her, while I 
am restless and disquieted. Will the peace I 
covet ever come to me ? ” 

Often had she been told to leave all her 
sins and sorrows at the foot of the cross ; but 
often as she carried them there, she left them 
not. 

“ Perhaps I shall never feel quite at rest,” 
she said to Mrs. Horton. “ It may be that 
I need this unrest, to keep me at the work 
set for me to do.” 

‘‘ Rest and peace will come when you are 
not looking for them,” was replied. 


304 


Our Homes, 


“ I shall be thankful, let it come how or 
when it will. I am so tired. I am thankful 
for poor Madge. She needed rest more than 
I ; and do you know, Mrs. Horton, my desire 
to see her grows stronger every day. I be- 
lieve it would do me good to talk with her, 
if only for an hour, I could leave the care 
of my business with Amy Darrah, and take 
a journey to the town where they are 
living.” 

“ If you have any inclination to go, you 
cannot do better than to gratify your incli- 
nation. I am sure it would do the poor wom- 
an good to see you. As I have thought of 
her, it has seemed to me that she must have 
a gift for loving, and that is sometimes a 
mighty power.” 

“ I never thought of it in that way, Mrs. 
Horton, but Christ’s love is a mighty power ; 
so full and free, so without stint or measure;” 
and as Miss Blaine said this, her face was 


Peace and Rest. 


305 


transfigured with the light shining from 
within. 

It was known in her home that she was to 
be absent for a few days, but those whom she 
proposed to visit were wholly unprepared to 
to see her. They lived not far from a small 
village hotel where she engaged a room, and 
then walked over to the old house. Mrs. 
Tubbs recognized her at once, and as if to 
express her gratitude, bent to kiss the hand 
extended to her. 

'‘That ever you should think of me and 
mine !” she exclaimed. “ It is too much. I 
would call the children to thank you on their 
knees, but you might not like them to 
know.’' 

“ Only Herbert,” was replied. " I wish 
him to know.” 

Directly Herbert was seen coming towards 
them, the very figure of his father ; the same 

swing of the arms, the same movement of the 
30 


3o6 


Our Homes. 


shoulders ; and yet, the moment you looked 
into his face, the difference in character 
was plainly seen. When introduced to Miss 
Blaine, he only stood and looked at her 
while his eyes filled with tears. 

I could die for you/^ he said at length, 
with a touching earnestness which attested 
the sincerity of his utterance. 

Three days she remained in the vicinity, 
spending a part of each day with the family, 
the younger members of which knew her only 
as their mother’s friend. She was glad to be 
there, glad to sit with Mrs. Tubbs and talk of 
God’s goodness ; and hardly had she started on 
her homeward journey, when she realized that 
a great peace had settled down upon her. 
Her soul was at rest. Her burdens were 
carried by another, and henceforth life and 
labor would be sweet. 

Mrs. Musgrove, what can we do to save 
one poor soul from a drunkard’s doom ?” she 


Peace and Rest 


307 


asked, the evening after her return. “ We 
ought to be able to save one.” 

“ Sure w^e ought, ma’am. It is contrary to 
my mind to feed beggars at the door, but I’ve 
had a poor fellow eating breakfast now two 
mornings. He was between the two gates 
when I was first up yesterday, and he looked 
so starved, I asked him had he a mind to do 
a job to earn his breakfast. He said he’d be 
that thankful, and I put him to scrubbing the 
steps. He did it beautiful too, and then I 
asked him in to his breakfast, but he wanted 
it outside. He ate like he was famished. 
Again this morning, and this time he told me 
his story ; such a pitiful one, too, for all he 
was so wicked. He promised never to wet 
his lips with another drop of liquor, but you 
can’t ever be sure with them like him.” 

“ Is he young, or old ?” 

“Young, ma’am ; and he saying his father 
is worth money. Oh, when will all the trouble 


3o8 


Our Homes, 


of drinking be over, and never any more of 
itr 

When the world is at an end ; and I am 
afraid not before. But for all that, we must 
do what we can.” 

“ So we will, and it will go hard with us 
but we will save one. Miss Darrah saw my 
poor fellow, she came -so early ; and Miss 
Bessie got a sight of him too. Sure was 
ever nicer young ladies than they ! Miss 
Bessie just trimmed my bonnet with her own 
hands, and I never paying a cent except for 
some bits of ribbon and lace.” 

Mrs. Horton could have told of a like ex- 
perience, and Miss Downing also, who since 
her acquaintance with the Darrahs, had 
found that the part of her wages reserved for 
her own use sufficed for many more comforts 
than formerly. 

She even entertained company, and on this 
occasion John Darrah made a most unex- 


Peace and Rest 


309 


pected discovery. Being allowed to examine 
the books contained in an old-fashioned case 
in one corner of the room, and finding some 
in a language he did not recognize, he asked 
what it was. 

“.German,'" replied Miss Downing. “I 
was once considered a good German and 
French scholar, I thought I ought earn my 
living by teaching and translating, but I found 
so many others trying to do this, that I turned 
to hand work.’" 

“ Could you write German and French 
letters ?” 

“ I think I could, John. I am out of prac- 
tice, but I could soon regain what I have 
lost.” 

“ And wouldn’t you like it better than cut- 
ting carpet patterns 

“ Certainly I should, but I have not the 
letters to write, while I am sure of the carpet 
patterns. I never expect the good fortune 


310 


Our Homes, 


of being paid for my knowledge of French 
and German. Hand-work of some kind is 
always in demand, and if honest, it should be 
considered honorable. My work never 
troubled me. It was the isolation ; the feel- 
ing that I was alone, set apart from others, 
that made me grow old before my time. I 
know that, in part, I chose the isolation, but 
I was constrained to it.” 

“Why, Miss Downing, you aint a bit old 
when your eyes shine, and you laugh, same 
as the birds do,” responded Frale, who was 
made supremely happy by being invited out 
to tea, the same as big folks. 

“ Thank you, Frale. It does me good to 
hear such praise,” said his hostess, kissing 
him. 

Mother, I never knew the capacity of a 
single room before,” remarked Amy Darrah, 
after returning from this visit. “ I begin to 
think we are living sumptuously,” , 


Peace and Rest. 


311 

** Of course we are,” chimed in Bessie. I 
have known that for a long time; and as the 
minister told us last Sabbath, we have grand 
opportunities for doing good. I expect he 
has some new work planned, and so was pre- 
paring us for it. The people who attend 
chapel now are well to do, compared with 
what they were two years ago.” 

We are, and we might go to a real 
church now,” said John. 

“ I have no wish to change,” replied Mrs. 
Darrah, and other members of the family ex- 
pressed the same feeling. 

Frale would never find another Sunday- 
School teacher like Miss Clyde, to whom he 
had imparted, at various times, bits of infor- 
mation in regard to household economies, 
which she received as strictly confidential. 
The glimpses of home life attracted her to 
the sisters, whom she counted among her 


312 


Our Homes, 


friends, although they seldom met except on 
the Sabbath. 

“ We wish to establish a mission school in 
one of the worst quarters of our city, and in 
order to make it a success we must have 
teachers who are not easily discouraged by 
obstacles, or repelled by disagreeable sur- 
roundings,” said the superintendent, not long 
after Bessie Darrah had prophesied of a new 
enterprise. “ I have secured the best room 
to be had for this purpose, and I now call for 
volunteers to aid us in this work.” 

Eight responded to the call ; among them 
Belle Clyde, Amy Darrah, and Miss Down- 
ing, who had taken her place in school for 
several weeks without attracting especial at- 
tention, but now, as she stood with radiant 
face, recognized by pastor and superintendent 
as an earnest woman. She was emerging 
from her long seclusion, and the very thought 
of associating with others in benevolent work 


Peace and Rest 


313 

inspired her with an enthusiasm of which she 
had believed herself incapable. 

“ Mr. Alden, I know a lady who can write 
French and German letters, and who would 
rather do it than cut carpet patterns,” said 
John Darrah to his employer, when a remark 
of the latter made it proper for him to do so. 

‘‘ Who is the lady ?” was asked, and for 
answer John described Miss Downing as best 
he could, adding : 

“ Mother knows the rest. We all like her, 
and Amy says she is very superior.” 

Mr. Alden soon called upon Mrs. Darrah, 
and asking of her friend, listened to a 
story which seemed too strange to be true, 
yet which the narrator did not doubt. 

“ How many years has Miss Downing been 
working in this way ? ” he asked. 

“ Eight years.” 

And in that time made no acquain- 
tances ? ” 


314 


Our Homes, 


She says she has never been on visiting 
terms with any one until we insisted upon 
knowing her. She told me she was so many 
times refused and repulsed in her efforts to 
obtain employment, that at last she only de- 
sired to earn money and live to herself.” 

“ It is very strange.” 

“ Very strange, Mr. Alden, but since I 
have seen her so much, I never think of 
doubting her words. The strangest things 
are those which are happening around us 
every day. I have learned that by experi- 
.ence. The mill in which Miss Downing is 
employed is some distance from here, and 
her work is such that it is easy for her to 
keep aloof from other workers. She came 
here in order to be entirely away from old 
associations. She has but few relatives, and 
her brother’s conduct had so alienated them, 
that they were willing to lose sight of her. 
Mr. Alden, I am surprised at the number of 


Peace and Rest 


315 


women who are enduring poverty and social 
ostracism, because of the intemperance of 
fathers, husbands, sons and brothers. I can- 
not reconcile myself to it. I think it would 
kill me if either of my boys should go wrong 
in that way.” 

“I think you have no reason to fear it, Mrs. 
Darrah. John has very firm principles and 
very clear perceptions of right and wrong. 
In regard to your friend, I have at present 
but few letters to be written which are be- 
yond my own ability, but these few I should 
be very glad to give to her, and pay her 
liberally for writing them. She might be 
able to do what I should require, without 
giving up her present employment. Will 
you please say that to her, and if agreeable 
to you, ask her to meet me here any even- 
ing which may suit her convenience.’"^ 

“ How can I ever be sufficiently thankful !” 
exclaimed Miss Downing, when told of this. 


3i6 


Our Homes, 


“ It is what I should like of all things. I 
know a poor woman who will be glad to do 
for me what I have done for myself, and so 
leave my evenings disengaged.” 

“And if you will take the two rooms 
which have just been vacated on the next 
floor, we shall have you quite in our family,” 
said Mrs. Darrah. 

The rooms were taken ; letters written 
and submitted to competent judges, who pro- 
nounced them correct, and Miss Downing 
entered upon a new era in her life. 



XVIIL 


HELP. 

R. ALDEN was a frequent visitor at 
Mr. Horton’s, where he was sure of 
a cordial welcome, and where no 
doubt of the friendship of his host and hos- 
tess intruded to mar his happiness. 

“ It is a rest to me to come here,” he said 
one evening, as he seated himself in his 
favorite chair. “ It is like coming home; and, 
Mrs. Horton, it is but justice to you and your 
husband, to tell you that I have learned more 
lessons of wisdom, here, than I supposed re- 
I mained for me to learn. I never thought 
i myself conceited, but when I came to this 
city, I had exalted ideas of my own ability 
and of my strength of will. I soon discov- 



318 


Our Homes, 


ered that I was weak, where I had fancied 
myself strong; and since then, I have put 
aside, one after another, many old habits of 
thought. .1 am not ashamed to say, too, that 
John Darrah, boy as he is, with a boy’s im-* 
pulsiveness and hastiness of conclusion, has 
exerted an influence upon me.” 

“ He is a good boy, Mr. Alden, but he 
would never think of influencing you. You 
are to him the embodiment of all things pure, 
and grand, and noble. He trusts you im- 
plicitly, and he would serve you to the last 
effort of which he is capable.” 

“ I know he would, Mr. Horton, and there 
is not another boy in the world for whom 
I would do so much. He told me to-day 
that he hopes he is a Christian, and intends 
to join the church next ^abbath, with his sis- 
ters. He asked me to be at the chapel, and 
I confess I was never in my life so moved by 
any simple request.” 


Help, 


319 


I trust you will grant it, Mr. Alden.” 

“ I certainly shall, unless prevented in 
some way I cannot anticipate. John told me, 
too, that he is praying for me, and this morn- 
ing I received a letter, the first sentence of 
which announced that another, my dearest 
friend, is praying for me. So there are two 
praying for me.'' 

“ There are four praying for you, Mr. 
Alden. I know not how many more, but if 
you are sure of two, I am sure of two others.” 

Then what can I do but pray for myself? 
We are not a religious family, although we 
have been taught to have some regard for 
the outward observances of religion.” 

That is well, so far as it goes, but heart 
religion is needed to fit us either for this 
world or another. No man has any moral 
right to live at less than his best. No 
woman has any moral right to live at less 
than her best^' 


320 


Our Homes, 


The very best of which they are capable, 
Mr. Horton ?” 

The very best. That is Bible doctrine. 
That is the Bible standard, and it is because 
of this that I insist upon total abstinence 
from intoxicating liquors as an imperative 
duty.” 

“You do well to insist upon it, and the 
man who refuses to do what he knows to be 
his duty is not only foolish, but sinful.” 

“ Is not consecration of one’s self to the 
service of God an imperative duty ?” asked 
Mrs. Horton gently. 

“ I believe it is,” replied Mr. Alden, after 
some hesitation, while his friend half re- 
gretted that she had asked the question. 

“ I am sure you will not refuse to do what 
you believe to be your duty,” she said, and 
at that moment the conversation was inter- 
rupted. 

A young girl rapped at the kitchen door. 


Help. 3 2 [ 

and it was half an hour before Mrs. Horton 
returned to the sitting-room. 

“ It was my missionary,” she said in expla- 
nation of her prolonged absence. “ I dis- 
covered her when I was distributing tracts, 
and since then I have seen a good deal of 
her.” 

“ I remember that you told me of your ex* 
perience as a tract distributor, but you have 
never told me the result of your mission.” 

“ The principal result of my personal mis- 
sion is the discovery of Mary Battis, the girl 
who has just called here. She has done the 
real missionary work, and accomplished more 
than I should have thought possible. She 
has induced her brother to sign the pledge, 
and aroused his wife to do more to make her 
home comfortable. The tract I distributed 
contained directions for cooking some cheap, 
palatable dishes, and Mary told me to day 

that the women in the house are vying 
31 


322 


Our Homes. 


with each other in their efforts at cooking. So 
if I cannot do real missionary work myself, I 
can help others to do it. Mary Battis thinks 
her brother will soon be able to provide a 
better place for his family, but she is not sure 
they will go. She thinks they can do good 
by remaining where they are. I have found 
some work for her, and she is so grateful, 
she is ready to go down on her knees to 
me.” 

“ Such gratitude honors both those who 
receive and those who bestow.” 

'‘It is surely a great pleasure to receive 
such gratitude. When we became poor, I 
thought we could only care for ourselves, but 
we long ago learned our mistake. It is sym- 
pathy and real friendship which people need, 
far more than they need pecuniary assistance ; 
and giving of these enriches rather tham im- 
poverishes. When I first saw Mary Battis, 
living in that wretched house, because she 


Help. 


323 


would not leave her brother’s family, I 
thought she was making an unwise sacrifice 
of her own interests ; but the event has proved 
that this sacrifice was not in vain.” 

“ I presume she considered it her post of 
duty.” 

“ She did. She told me she could never be 
happy away from her brother’s children, until 
there was some one else to teach them what 
they ought to know. My finding her was an 
especial providence. I came upon the tracts in 
a cheap book-store, and examining them has- 
tily, thought how much good they might do 
some poor people. So I bought them, and I 
fancy it was the best investment I ever made. 
The story was written for English cottagers, 
who have little money to spend for food, and 
little time to spend in its preparation ; but we 
have a large class among us who are in the 
same conditions.” 

‘^Yes, Mrs. Horton, but the poor among 


324 


Our Homes, 


us can rise by their own industry and thrift. 
The barefooted boy of to-day may, thirty 
years from now, hold an honored place in the 
community. He only needs the necessary 
stimulus to exertion, and the knowledge he 
can acquire as he is working his way up.” 

“That is true, and my tract recommends 
the improvement of every opportunity to 
gain knowledge, or help others. It incul- 
cates pure morality, and although its religion 
is a little formal, it yet reaches the heart. 
The story is pleasantly told, and people will 
read stories, who could never be persuaded 
to read a sermon. I have provided myself 
with some temperance story tracts, which I 
intend to distribute. Then I have others, 
with attractive titles, which teach lessons of 
thrift, economy, and refinement.” 

“ I have no doubt you will accomplish 
much good with them. In a large city, one 
cannot ignore the fact that the masses of the 


Help. 


325 


people are neither rich nor cultured. Yet 
new families are coming to the front every 
year, while others are retiring to obscurity. 
Who ever can help in any way to educate the 
masses is doing the country a service, the 
value of which can never be estimated in dol- 
lars and cents.” 

“ Mr. Alden, I think I would rather have 
written one simple, religious story, which 
would be read in dingy garrets and damp 
cellars, than have my name counted among 
the most famous novelists of the country.” 

I presume you could write such a story, 
Mrs. Horton.” 

If I was twenty years younger, I would 
try what I could do. I can talk, but I must 
leave the writing to others. Mary Battis has 
a wonderful gift for entertaining children 
with stories, and perhaps sometime she may 
write them.” 

“ I hope she will, and that I may be per- 


326 


Our Homes, 


mitted to read them. John Darrah’s sisters 
ought to be acquainted with your Mary Bat- 
tis. They might help her in many ways.” 

“So they might, Mr. Alden. I had not 
thought of that. Mary was so abjectly poor, 
I have thought only of making her more 
comfortable in her wretched home. Thank 
you for the suggestion. Mrs. Darrah’s family 
think they know something of poverty ; but 
they have fared sumptuously every day com- 
pared with people I have seen.” 

When Chandler Alden was alone in his 
room, that evening, he thought of the ques- 
tion Mrs. Horton had asked him, and of all 
it implied. He had prospered in his busi- 
ness. He had a pleasant circle of acquaint- 
ances. Occasionally he attended church, but 
beyond this, he gave no token of allegiance 
to God. Was religion necessary to him ? 
Were he a Christian, would he be a better, 
happier man ? 


Help. 


327 


He had always trusted John Darrah, but 
he trusted the boy more entirely since the 
avowal of Christian principle. He had once 
prided himself upon his strength of charac- 
ter, yet he had been easily tempted to folly, 
which even now brought the blush of shame 
to his cheek. 

The next Sabbath he went to the chapel, 
where he saw twelve young people stand up 
before the congregation and take upon them- 
selves the vows which bound them to lives of 
Christian devotion. He listened to the ap- 
peal of the pastor to others to follow their 
example, and returned to his boarding-place 
with a deep consciousness of guilt ahcT ifl- *^ 
desert. 

Monday morning, John Darrah went to 
his work with a bounding step, and when his 
employer entered the store, he said quickly : 

Mr. Alden, I thank you for going to the 
chapel yesterday.’’ 


328 


Our Homes. 


“ I was glad to go. Why do you thank 
me ? ” was replied. 

“Because you helped me. I wanted to 
feel that I had some friends there besides my 
mother and sisters and little brothers. Your 
being there made me feel stronger.” 

“ How, John ? I don't understand.” 

“Why, Mr. Alden, you know I promised 
a good deal, and it was a solemn thing for 
me to do. When I promised never to taste 
a drop of liquor, I didn’t mind that ; it is 
such an easy thing to do. But to do just 
right in God’s sight is a thousand times more, 
and I shall need help. I expect you will 
help me.” 

“ I hope I shall not hinder you.” 

“ I know you will not hinder me. You 
have helped me ever since I first knew you.’’ 

“ I am very glad to help you in any way. 
But am I the only friend you invited to the 
chapel yesterday ? ” 


Help. 


329 


No, sir. I invited a boy who works in 
Mr. Arms’ mill ; the one who sat next to me. 
You would hardly believe it, Mr. Alden, but 
he used to be the poorest, wretchedest boy I 
ever saw. His father was a drunkard, and 
his mother didn’t try to have things nice. 
She couldn't have them real nice, but she 
didn’t do a bit well. John told me once that 
she wasn’t a very good mother, but she was 
all he had, and he was going to make the 
best he could of her.” 

“ That is a sensible way for the boy to do,” 
replied Mr. Alden, smiling at the matter-of- 
fact tone in which this was said. 

I should want my mother to be just right, 
Mr. Alden. When John Beech’s father died, 
there wouldn’t anybody have cared, only he 
had a soul, and he had been such a wicked 
man. John used to talk a good deal about 
that, but he doesn’t now. He says he means 
to look forward instead of looking back.” 


330 


Our Homes. 


This was the boy’s intention, although 
there was much to remind him of his past 
life. The family occupied a comfortable ten- 
ement ; small, yet with an abundance of sun- 
light and air, which made it luxurious, com- 
pared with the close quarters to which they 
had been accustomed. 

“ Now, mother, we must have a nice 
home,” said John, when they arranged their 
few, poor articles of furniture. “ Everybody 
here keeps clean, for all the color, and we 
must keep clean too. I shall be dreadful 
ashamed if our rooms are dirty. Perhaps 
Mr. Arms mother will come in to see you 
some day, and she is just as nice as a lady, 
’though she works like anybody.” 

“John, you can’t expect much of me after 
all I’ve been through. I’ve been so dis- 
couraged, and so beat about, I can’t change 
all in a minute.” 

“ But mother, we must have a real home,” 


Help. 


331 


urged the boy. Mr. Arms says a home is 
more than a place to eat and sleep in. You 
will hear him talk about it sometime, and 
then you will know what he means. We 
must have a spread on the table, and clean 
dishes, and bright knives and forks. I can’t 
tell over all the things by themselves, but 
there are places you want to stay in and there 
are places you don’t want to stay in. We must 
have a place folks will want to stay in. I 
saw a picture, the other day, I wish we had 
hanging up here. It wouldn’t cost much, 
but I knew we needed so many other things, 
I thought I must wait for that.” 

“ What was it the picture of?” asked Mrs. 
Beech with some appearance of interest. 

It was a picture of a table, with a man 
and woman and two children sitting ’round it. 
There was a smooth spread on the table, a 
loaf of bread on a round board and a knife to 
cut it, and a plate of butter with a knife on 


332 


Our Homes. 


that. There were four plates with a knife at 
each plate, and two bowls and spoons for the 
children. Then there was a tea-pot and two 
cups and saucers. We ’most always have as 
much as bread and butter to eat, and we have 
got plates and knives enough, to have one 
a-piece.” 

Poor John failed to make his mother com- 
prehend the beauty of cleanliness and order, 
but with his brothers and sisters he was able 
to accomplish much ; so that in time his home 
became more attractive. Mrs. Arms came 
in occasionally, suggesting improvements, and 
even making these improvements with her 
own hands. 

It was found, also, that Mrs. Beech had an 
aptitude for a certain kind of mill-work which 
occupied a part of her time, and by which she 
was able to earn a considerable amount of 
money. Thus encouraged, she developed 
other capabilities. She became ambitious 


Help, 


333 


for her children, and appreciated in some de- 
gree the kindness and unselfishness of her 
eldest son. 

“ May be we will have a house of our own 
with a garden to it,” she remarked, as they 
counted up their earnings, and found that 
after paying the expenses of the month, they 
would have a small surplus. “ When I was 
a girl, I used to think over and over again 
how it would be to have a, garden with things 
growing in it, but I never had it.” 

“ We will have one,” replied John. 

“Yes, we will, mother,” chimed in the 
other children. 

“ We will begin right off to save money to 
buy it,” added the boy two years younger 
than John, who, under favorable influences, 
was likely to prove himself in some wayc: his 
brother’s superior. “ Mr. Arms says boys 
and girls can do almost anything they are a 
mind to, if they always tell the truth, and 


334 


Our Homes, 


don’t taste of tobacco or liquor. I mean 
to do as he says, and see if he tells the 
truth.” 

This assurance had been often repeated by 
Wilton Arms, not only to boys and girls, but 
to men and women who had lost the first 
flush of youth. Mr. Holston and his son were 
testing the truth of these words ; finding them 
confirmed by every day’s experience. 

“ I suppose you would be glad of better 
wages,” was said to Crandall Holston. 

“ I want all I can get,” he replied. 

“You are entitled to that, and I want a 
foreman for a job requiring steady, skillful 
management. It can be done by ordinary 
workmen, if superintended by an .extra- or- 
dinary workman ; ” and as Mr. Arms said 
this, he looked keenly at his companion, add- 
ing: “You are the best workman, in that 
department, on the place.” 

“ Thank you for saying that. I have tried 


Help, 335 

to do as well as I could since I came 
here.” 

“ I have no complaint to make of you, 
Crandall, and I am glad now to give you a 
better position with higher wages. I would 
not trust a man with the job who would drink 
so much as a glass of cider, but I will trust 
you, my friend. A great deal will depend 
upon you. It will be the opportunity of 
your life. I wish you had a home of your 
own, with a good wife to make it pleasant 
for you.” 

‘‘ I wish I had, Mr. Arms. It would be 
easier for me to do right. But I am a poor 
man, and the girl I hope to have for a wife 
is a poor girl. I had nothing when I came 
here, and what I have saved would hardly 
set us up in housekeeping.” 

“ You can begin with very little. You can 
rent two rooms, and furnish them by degrees. 
You can buy what is absolutely necessary, 


336 


Our Homes. 


and, as a friend, I advise you to lay the case 
before the other party concerned, and let her 
decide the matter. You may tell her from 
me that, if you keep your pledge, you will 
soon be able to provide her with all she can 
reasonably desire.” 

“ If I keep my pledge, Wilton Arms ! 
Do you suppose I am going to perjure my- 
self, to gratify an appetite I detest ? Don’t 
you believe there is the making of a man in 
me ?” 

“ Indeed I do, my friend. I believe 
more than that. I believe there is the mak- 
ing of a Christian in you. I pray for you, 
Crandall. Do you pray for yourself?” 

“ Wilton, I promised you I would ask 
God, on my knees, every morning and every 
evening, to give me strength to keep my 
pledge, and I have not broken that promise.” 

“Then tell your chosen wife for me that 
you are sure to provide her with all she can 


Help. 


337 


reasonably desire ; and Crandall, I think it 
will be well for you to take a vacation of 
two days, and have this matter settled at 
once.” 

“ I understand that advice,” was replied 
with a smile. ‘‘ Show me the rooms I can 
rent, and I will see what can be done.” 

They were two pleasant chambers, and 
within twenty-four hours, they contained 
such articles of furniture as are absolutely 
indispensable to housekeeping. When these 
were arranged to the best advantage, Cran- 
dall Holston looked around upon his worldly 
possessions, with a feeling of intense satisfac- 
tion. Then he kneeled down and asked 
God to bless the woman he had chosen for 
his wife, and help him to be to her a true 
and loving husband. 

He had leave of absence for only two 
days ; but when he returned, he came not 


J33 


338 


Our Homes, 


alone. A young girl came with him whom 
he introduced as his wife, and whose very 
presence made his home the brightest spot 
on earth. 



XIX. 

IN THE WORLD. 

HIS will be quite an aristocratic 
neighborhood, despite our poverty 
and plain living. Mr. Palmer and 
Mr. Alden have rented two tenements in the 
new block, and are to move in as soon as 
they are ready for occupancy.” 

“ We shall have delightful neighbors,” 
said Mrs. Ordway, in reply to this announce- 
ment from her husband, “We are not 
quite out of the world, Henry, if some people 
do consider us annihilated.” 

“We are in a happy world, my dear wife. 
I am always sure of welcome and rest when 
I come home.” 

“/ am sure oi gladness and rest when you 




340 


Our Homes. 


come. What should I do, Henry, if I 
dreaded your coming, as I know some 
women must dread their husbands’ coming ! 
I called upon cousin Clayborne’s wife to-day, 
and my heart ached for her. He came in, 
while I was there, so nearly intoxicated, that 
he was not quite sure of himself I could see 
that, but she sat, as apparently indifferent, 
as if she had been a marble statue.” 

“ She is a very elegant woman.” 

“Yes, Henry; but she must have a 
woman’s heart, and sometime it will assert 
itself. I have no doubt that Clayborne’s 
money decided her fate.” 

“ She demanded her share of it, and she 
was wise to do so. If she lives she will 
need it.” 

“ Poor woman ! To-day, I just longed to 
throw my arms around her neck and tell her 
that I pitied her ; but I could no more do it, 
than I could offer sympathy to the everlast- 


In the World. 


341 


ing hills. She has marvellous self-control. 
Her face did not change in expression or 
color, for an instant during my call, although 
Clayborne talked in a way which made me 
quite ashamed of him.” . 

“ She does well to exercise self-control, but 
unless she is more, or less than human, she 
must find it a poor substitute for happiness. 
Her husband is going from bad to worse, 
and it is thought that she makes no effort to 
restrain him.” 

People wondered at this; even his boon 
companions who sneered at woman’s influ- 
ence ; and at last he wondered at it himself 
He came and went, unquestioned by the wife, 
who had told him that she wished him to do 
exactly as he pleased. She acceded to 
his requests. She had no commands 
to obey, for he never attempted any exer- 
cise of authority. 

He admired her perfect self-possession, 


342 


Our Homes. 


yet sometimes he could not but wish that she 
was less indifferent to his presence. He 
even wished she would ask some favor of 
him. All invitations to social entertain- 
ments were submitted to him. If he ac- 
cepted an invitation, she accompanied him. 
If he declined, she sent a note of apology 
and remained at home. 

But this could not continue for a life-time. 
As a wife, she might govern herself by 
certain rules, ignoring her womanly nature ; 
yet as a mother, she awoke to new con- 
sciousness of thought and feeling. A new 
love thrilled all her being, as she clasped her 
child in her arms, and looked down into the 
sweet baby face. He was all her own. 

Her husband came into the room, afid lay- 
ing his hand lightly upon her head, bent to 
kiss the child, their child. Involuntarily she 
moved as if to prevent this, when he said in 
a tone quite unusual to him : 


In the World, 


343 


I always supposed a man had a right to 
kiss his own baby ; such a splendid boy too. 
I am proud of him and I am proud of my 
wife.” 

‘‘ Thank you. I am so fond of him, I be- 
lieve I am jealous of his receiving even 
your caresses.” 

“ I wish you were as fond of me as that, 
Garrie. If you were, I might be a different 
man. But that is a matter not to be con- 
sidered. I hope our boy will grow up to be 
such a man as your father. I have no wish 
to have him like me. Your father is a good, 
honorable man, and Cummings is a splendid 
fellow ; straight- laced, and all that, but he 
understands business, and can be trusted to 
the end of the chapter. Your brothers, too, 
are coming right along in the way they 
should go. I am really growing proud of 
your family.” 

Thank you,” she answered, as usual. 


344 


Our Homes, 


“ Don’t thank me for every civil speech I 
make,” he exclaimed impatiently. “ I some- 
times think if you would lecture me, as Aunt 
Edmonds used to, it would be really refresh- 
ing. It might do me good.” 

I have no wish to lecture you, Clayborne. 
I knew before we were married, that you had 
some peculiarities, and I expected you would 
retain them. So why should I lecture you 
because of them ?” 

“I don’t know,” he answered . with some 
hesitation. “ I don’t know, unless it is that, 
when a man knows he is doing what he better 
not do, he wonders that his wife should be 
quite indifferent. But I have no fault to find. 
You have given me no reason to complain;” 
and saying this, he left the room. 

Mrs. Edmonds was sure that Mrs. Thaxter 
must now see the necessity of housekeep- 
ing, and ventured a suggestion to that ef- 
fect. 


In the World. 


345 


“ If my husband chooses,” was the only 
reply she received. 

“ But, my dear, men can never understand 
such things, as women do,” continued the 
lady, resolved upon being heard. Then 
Clayborne needs the restraints of a home. I 
have wished to speak to you in regard to his 
habits. I assure you, my dear, that I have 
the best interests of you both at heart.” 

“ I have no reason to doubt you, Mrs. Ed- 
monds, but I never discuss my husbands 
habits. I trust your daughter, Mrs. Ordway, 
is well.” 

“ I presume that she is well,” answered the 
discomfited visitor. “ She is living so quite 
out of the way, that I see less of her than of 
my other daughters, but if she was ill, I 
should probably be informed of the fact.” 

Mrs. Edmonds was both mortified and .n- 
dignant, yet she did not choose to betray any 
feeling of annoyance. With her brother, 


34 ^ 


Our Homes. 


however, she gave free expression to her 
indignation. 

“ A woman must be insane to do as Clay- 
borne’s wife is doing. Everybody remarks 
it. He is so proud of his boy now, that she 
could influence him to almost any extent.” 

“ I presume she could influence him in 
many ways, but when it comes to drinking 
wine and brandy, I doubt if all she. could 
say would have any effect. He will never 
be a teetotaller unless a miracle is wrought.” 

“ I have no wish that he should become 
such a fanatic. . I only wish him to drink in 
a moderate, gentlemanly manner.” 

“ He cannot do it. He simply cannot do 
it. It would be of no use for him to attempt 
it.” 

Why can he not, as well as I ?” asked 
Mrs. Edmonds almost defiantly. 

“ Because he is a man, and therefore con- 
stantly tempted to take a social glass with 


In the World, 


347 


some friend or acquaintance. Because he is 
a man, and the world allows to men greater 
license than it allows to women. The Thax- 
ters have always been drinkers, moderate or 
immoderate, as you may please to call 
them, and they are not likely to change their 
habits, any more than they are likely to 
change their religion. Your will is stronger 
than Clayborne's, but if you were a man — ’’ 
“That is enough. I wish to hear no 
more. I wonder is all the world gone mad ? 
You must have been talking with some crazy 
person, or you would never be so absurd. 
We are likely to be disgraced by Clayborne ; 
but from this time forth, I wash my 
hands of all responsibility for him or his 
wife. Have you seen Adah recently?” 

“ I saw her yesterday.” 

“And you talked with her of temperance 
and religion, her pet hobbies ?” 

“I did.” 


348 


Our Homes. 


“ I thought so. She is a marvel to me. I 
never can understand why she should be so 
different from her sisters. I am ashamed of 
her.” 

“ Y ou have no need to be ashamed of her. 
She is a lovely woman.” 

“ Doing her own housework like any 
Irish woman.” 

“ Oh, no, sister, she does it like a lady ; and 
she is so happy, it makes me happy just to 
see her. She loves her husband devot- 
edly.” 

I presume she would say that, but I 
prophesy that she will live to see the time 
wlien she will wish she had not married so 
entirely beneath her. If you choose to listen 
to her high flown fancies, you will oblige me 
by not repeating them in my presence.” 

True to her resolve, Mrs. Edmonds made 
no further allusion to her nephew’s habits, or 
style of living, but Emma Maxon proposed 


In the World. 


349 


to him that he should become a householder, 
and so have a home of his very own. 

If I am ever married, I shall commence 
housekeeping at once,” she said laughingly. 
“ That is the way to do. If a man can ever 
drink muddy coffee and eat soggy bread with 
a smile, he will do it during the honey- 
moon.” 

And do you expect to do your own cook- 
ing ?” 

“ I presume I shall. My husband, if I have 
one, will probably be a poor man.” 

That may be, Emma, but if you cook for 
him, he will live like a prince ; and he will 
not be poor, when he has you for a wife. I 
will think about the housekeeping business 
and consult Garrie.” 

“ If you would like it, I shall be ready to 
make the change at any time,” said Mrs. 
Thaxter, when the question was submitted 
to her. 


350 


Our Homes. 


There was a house for sale, which offered 
ample accommodations, and quite satisfied 
her ambition. Much of the furniture was 
nearly new ; and as the owner of the house 
had failed in business, this was included in 
the sale ; so that within a few weeks, Mr. 
and Mrs. Clayborne Thaxter were estab- 
lished in their own home. Then began the 
trials of housekeeping, with a large establish- 
ment, without a well trained mistress, or well 
trained servants. 

Emma Maxon, how did you ever learn 
to cook ?” asked her sister when they were 
examining the conveniences of kitchen and 
pantries, three months after she began her 
experience as housekeeper. 

“ I just cooked,” was the reply. “ If I 
made a mistake, I tried again, and so 
kept trying until I succeeded. There is no 
magic in it. As Aunt Jane says: ,‘It is all 
plain sailing, if you only know how.’ Aunt 


In the World. 


351 


Jane knows how. She is a marvellous 
cook." . 

“ She is ?" 

“ Of course she is. Not all old fashioned 
dishes either ; but such delicate dainties as 
would tempt the most fastidious. The boys 
think there was never such another cook." 

‘‘ Such cooking as we have is enough to 
drive any man or woman desperate. Such 
servants too. If it was not for my baby, I 
should wish we were boarding again^ but I 
can do better for him in a house of my own. 
So I must make the best of it, but I really 
pity Clayborne." 

“ I am glad that you do. A man in a dis- 
orderly house is to be pitied, and to have 
order in such a house as this, there must be 
good servants. But, Garrie, the best ser- 
vants need to feel that there is somebody at 
the head who understands her business." 

“ I should like to engage you as house- 


352 


Our Homes. 


keeper. I would pay you a good salary out 
of my own purse.” 

“ If I could be spared from home, and it 
was necessary for me to earn money, I would 
accept the position. I might stop with you 
now for a few days until you can get more 
efficient help. I can certainly manage to 
prepare palatable meals.” 

“ That is more than we have had since we 
came here. If we could afford a French 
cook — ” 

“ I never would afford a French cook, no 
matter how rich I might be. Somewhere, 
there is a nice, capable American woman, 
who needs to earn her living, and who could 
superintend the work of your house.” 

“ Such a woman would never take a ser- 
vants place.” 

“ Perhaps not. I must confess that I have 
not yet solved the problem of service. We 
have done our own work now for two years. 


In the World. 


353 


with the exception of washing and ironing, 
and an occasional day of cleaning ; and be- 
fore we moved where we are now, I never 
thought how the work was done. Cornie 
Harriman is the only seamstress we have 
employed, and of course, we have treated her 
as we would one of the family.” 

“I must have a seamstress, and I have 
thought of her; but some one has told me she 
is getting exorbitant in her prices. She 
quite equals Miss Blaine.” 

“Why should she not? She fits equally 
well. She will come to your house and make 
the most of every scrap you give to her; and 
what is to be considered, she does not go to 
the next house and betray your economies, 
/prize her for that, and then she is so in- 
terested for her patrons and such delightful 
company. She is just lovely. I heard a 
gentleman say, not long ago, that he con- 
sidered her one of the finest looking ladies in 

23 


354 


Our Homes, 


the city. Mother and I think her perfectly 
charming.” 

“Is the family entirely dependent upon 
her?” 

“Not entirely. Her sisters are able to 
earn something, although she insists upon 
their studying, that they may be proficient in 
some department of science or art. They do 
beautiful embroidery, and that is considered 
one of the fine arts. You know Cornie is in 
the world again. I believe people are begin- 
ning to be more sensible in some ways. It 
is no disgrace to work ; no disgrace to be 
obliged to work.” 

“ No, Emma, I suppose it is not, but it is 
certainly very unfortunate.” 

“ I think it is sometimes very fortunate. 
It will save our boys; and aunt Jane says 
that every boy and every girl should be 
taught some trade or profession by which to 
earn an honest living. What is the good of 


In the World, 


355 


being in the world, if one is to devote his 
whole energies to killing time ; getting 
through one day after another, with no defi- 
nite purpose? But there, Garrie, I am 
wearying you, and I certainly have no wish 
to do that. Let us think about dinner. Do 
you know what is in the larder ?” 

“No more than if I was not in the house. 
You can ask Bridget. She is good-natured, 
and I presume you can make something of 
her. I discharged the cook yesterday. She 
was so unbearable, I could tolerate her no 
longer ; and this morning I was too discour- 
aged to go in search of another. Besides I 
did not wish to leave my baby.” 

“ You are entirely devoted to him, Garrie.” 

“ I am. I never dreamed I could love any 
one as I love him, and I am so glad Clay- 
borne wished to call him Maxon. I suppose 
everybody will shorten his name to Max, 
but that will make no difference.” 


356 


Our Homes, 


“No di£ference whatever. He is a dear 
little fellow, and it would be very strange if 
you did not love him. But now for dinner.” 

As Bridget had been the cook’s assistant, 
she knew the resources of the kitchen and 
pantries. She was quick to comprehend 
orders and ready to obey them. -The morn- 
ing’s marketing had been sent as usual, and 
after examining it Emma Maxon was ready 
to proceed with the cooking. 

Dinner was on the table at the appointed 
hour, well served, while the waiter performed 
his duties satisfactorily. Mr. Thaxter ex- 
pressed his appreciation in no measured 
terms. It was so unusual and so delightful. 
He complimented his sister-in-law until she 
begged him to desist The dessert was 
faultless, but the wine was potent and before 
dinner was over, Mrs. Thaxter endured 
the mortification of hearing her husband talk 
as he never would have talked when sober. 


In the World, 


357 


** How can Game live ?” soliloquized her 
sister after they had left the dining-room. 
“ Not for ten thousand worlds would I ever 
marry a man who tastes of liquor.” 

Poverty ! She could smile at that; for in 
this country poverty need never be squalid 
or repulsive, so long as people are sober 
and industrious. 

Did any woman envy Mrs. Clayborne 
Thaxter? Did any poor girl fancy that the 
mistress of so elegant a mansion must neces- 
sarily be happy ? 

Alas for her ! The very love she bore her 
child became a source of unhappiness. She 
could not always clasp him in her arms and 
hold him fast. With every year, he would 
become more and more independent of her. 
Should he live, the time would come when 
he would reach man’s estate, going out into 
the world, to prove what manner of man he 
might be. 


358 


Our Homes. 


Her breath came thick and fast as she 
realized this ; realizing too that his father was 
a drunkard. It was hard to confess this, 
even to herself, yet she could not deny it. 

Wealth, name, and position all were his; 
but Clayborne Thaxter was a drunkard and 
she was his wife. She covered her face with 
her hands, and wept such tears as women 
weep, only when the deepest fountains of 
their hearts are stirred. 



XX. 


PRE-EMINENT WORK. 

HE question so often asked: '‘Will 
Belle Clyde marry Wilton Arms ?” 
was answered to the entire satisfac- 
tion of those most interested. They were 
married, and settled in their own home, a 
pleasant house built by the manufacturing 
company. 

It was all they desired, and never was a 
home established under happier auspices. 
Never was a bride more cordially welcomed 
by her husband s friends ; and few there are 
who can count so large a constituency 
From the oldest people in the place, down 
to the very youngest, all rejoiced with Mr, 
Arms. 



360 


Our Homes. 


O mother, have you seen her ?” ex- 
claimed John Beech. 

‘'Yes, and she looks a lady, every inch,” 
was replied. 

“And so she is, mother. She was Frale 
Darrah’s Sunday School teacher, and he 
thinks she is best of anybody. I am real 
glad she has come up here to live, and now, 
mother, we must try and have our home fit 
to ask her into.” 

“ You don’t think she’ll ever be coming to 
us, John.” 

“ Perhaps she may, mother. Mr. Arms , 
introduced me to her to-day, and she shook 
hands with me and told me she had heard a 
good deal about me. O mother, I am so 
glad and happy, it don’t seem as though I 
was ever only Brown Beech.” 

Miss Clyde’s Sunday School class, both in 
the old and the new mission, were grieved at 
the thought of losing her. But when she 


Pre-eminent Work, 361 

provided another teacher^ and promised them 
that they should visit her, they were com- 
forted. To go anywhere would be such a 
treat to the poor boys. 

Some of Mrs. Thaxter’s callers said Belle 
Clyde had buried herself, but their hostess 
could not endorse this opinion. They said, 
also, that Cornie Harriman had acted most 
foolishly in refusing to marry a man of wealth, 
who would have reinstated her in society and 
provided for her mother. 

I wonder what she expects ?” remarked 
one. ‘‘ Men are not perfect. We all know 
that. She was never quite like other girls, 
but I should suppose that, by this time, she 
would have some regard for her own best 
interests.” 

“ I presume she has regard to what she 
considers her best interests,” replied Mrs. 
Thaxter. “ I think she lias more self-reliance 


362 


Our Homes, 


than any other woman I have known. I only 
wish I had half so much/’ 

Is it possible Mrs. Thaxter envies Cornie 
Harriman her freedom and independence ?” 
afterwards said the very same lady who had 
expressed herself so strongly in regard to the 
folly of the latter. It always seemed strange 
to me that she could marry such a man as 
every body knew Clay Thaxter to be. He 
was no better than a sot, then, and he is 
growing worse every day. She has an ele- 
gant establishment, but that is not every- 
thing. Carrie Maxon was a proud girl, and 
she must sometimes be terribly humiliated. 
If there was no such drink as wine or brandy 
in the world, there would be less of trouble 
and unhappiness.” 

“ If you think so, why not banish such 
drinks from your table ?” 

“ Because such banishment would make 
me conspicuous, and besides there is another 


Pre-eminent Work, 363 

to be consulted in the matter. But I wish I 
was sure of my boys.” 

“ If I had children, and felt as you profess 
to feel, I would make sure of them. Home 
is the place where habits and characters are 
formed. Do you think Belle Clyde’s old 
friends will call on her, now she is Mrs. 
Wilton Arms?” 

“ I am sure that some of them will call, 
and I suppose it would be policy to do so. 
Wilton Arms has too many hobbies to please 
me, but he is a rising man for all that. He 
is always talking temperance and religion.” 

People who have heard him, say that he 
talks remarkably well, and he is certainly a 
magnificent looking man.” 

'‘No one can deny that,” was replied, and 
the speaker mentally contrasted his fine phy- 
sique with the inferior appearance of her hus- 
band. Strange, too, when he was brought 
up like any common workman’s child.” 


3^4 


Out Homes. 


“ But I have heard that his father and 
mother are quite ^;^common people, and I 
think they must be, or they would not have 
such a son.” 

The ladies separated, each going her way, 
thinking — vaguely perhaps — of home rela- 
tions and home influences. The importance 
of these relations and influences was every 
where apparent, yet few recognized their full 
significance. 

Marriages were contracted with little 
thought of what future years might bring of 
duties and responsibilities. Houses were 
furnished and habits of life adopted, with 
more regard for fashion or the caprice of the 
hour, than for the comfort and best interests 
of the dwellers in these houses. Yet a few 
brave souls were leading in a better way, 
while others wondered at their temerity. 

Happiness was possible without much of 
material wealth. Crandall Holston felt this 


Pre-emine7it Work. 


365 


when, on coming in from his day’s work, he 
announced himself as the richest man in the 
country. 

The very richest man in the country,” he 
repeated. 

I am glad you are so rich,” replied his 
wife, smilingly, as she thought of their mutual 
happiness. “ I am as rich as you.” 

“ Then what more do we need ? We 
shall not always live in these two rooms, but 
I never expect to be any happier than I have 
been here. How could I waste so many 
precious years ! I must try and make up for 
it, and with your help I shall do a great deal 
towards it. I don’t suppose you would have 
trusted me unless Mr. Arms had gone surety 
for my good behavior.” 

“ I think I should have trusted your word. 
With all your faults, I never knew you to 
tell me a falsehood. You never promised 


366 


Otir Homes. 


me that you would be a teetotaller until 
since you came here.” 

“No. I always said I would never deceive 
the woman I wished to marry. She should 
take me as I was, or send me adrift. I 
should have made a bad husband without 
my pledge.” 

You would not have been my husband 
without your pledge,” said Mrs. Holston 
gently.. “ I am glad and happy to do all I can 
for you, but I could never live month after 
month, and year after year, wondering and 
fearing for what might happen next. It 
would have been hard to send you adrift, 
but—” 

“ Don’t say it, little wife. It hurts me 
just to think of it. But I must say that I 
have wondered to see women marry as they 
do. If a woman’s son drinks, he is still her 
son, and she must suffer with him. If a 
brother drinks, the sister cannot deny her 


Pre-eminent Work. 


367 


relationship ; but a woman is under no obliga- 
tion to accept any man as her husband, un- 
less she has given him some claims upon her. 
She is under no obligation to take some man 
and watch and worry for him through her 
natural life-time.” 

“ Is she under obligation to watch and 
worry through her natural life-time for a 
brother who cares more for the gratification 
of his appetite than for her comfort ? That 
is a question I have often asked myself, 
Crandall. What do you think of it ? ” 

“ I think there is a limit to all such endur- 
ance.” 

‘‘ But who shall decide when that limit is 
reached ” 

“ Each must decide for herself. ” 

But it is hard, so hard.” 

Poor Mary Battis ! It had been so hard 
for her, yet now she was rejoicing. She was 
Mrs. Horton’s missionary. She had no wish 


368 


Our Homes, 


to leave the old house. She must stay and 
purify it, she would say earnestly, and then 
with renewed courage address herself to the 
task. 

“ She ought to be differently situated. 
She is too pretty to stay there,” said Bessie 
Darrah. 

“ But somebody pretty, and attractive, and 
efficient must stay there, if the other immates 
of the house are to be brought up to a higher 
and better standard of living. There are 
twenty families, and Mary Battis has made 
friends with them all. She has a cooking 
school, a sewing school, and a Sunday 
School. Mr. Alden gave me money to buy 
tracts and papers, so that now she is well 
equipped. She is president of a home tem- 
perance society, and she has visited their 
landlord, and asked him to paint and whiten 
their rooms.” 

“ And did she succeed with him ?” 


Pre-eminent Work, 


369 


“ He promised to do it if she would be re- 
sponsible for the punctual payment of the 
rent, and after consulting the tenants she 
accepted this trust, so that now the house is 
under her care.” 

Then let her stay. She cannot do more 
good anywhere else.” 

“ There is her work. Her brother and 
his family aid her, but she is the presiding 
genius of it all. There is no work needing 
to be done in this world for which some one 
is not pre-eminently fitted.” 

“ I wonder if I shall find any pre-eminent 
work, Mrs. Horton ?” 

“You will, if you do with your might 
whatever your hands find to do. Pre-em- 
inent work comes to busy people, not to 
idlers.” 

“ That must be true. I am trying to do 
what I can, and I know now that I should 

never have been so discouraged as I was at 
24 


370 


Our Homes. 


one time, if I had just kept on at work, no 
matter how small the work was. There is 
Miss Downing. I wonder and wonder how 
she could keep on as she did, earning and 
saving, without any other life. I think I 
should be insane under such circumstances.’' 

“ I am not sure but you would, dear. Not 
many could do as she has done ; yet she 
knows now that had she trusted God more, 
she would not have held herself so aloof from 
her neighbor ; and judged by the Bible stand- 
ard, we are all neighbors.” 

“ O Mrs. Horton, if we only remembered 
that, how much better we should be. There 
is so much I wish to do at home, I am likely 
to forget others But my brother John is a 
real Samaritan He never goes by on the 
other side. He is always looking after some 
poor boy. He began with Brown Beech, 
and since then he has had eight different 
boys under his care.” 


Pre-eminent Work, 


371 


“ Mr. Alden says he is very successful as 
a missionary.’' 

“ I think he is. He is very persevering 
and very sympathetic.” 

“And very conscientious.” 

“Yes, he is, and he was always truthful. 
Father and mother taught their children to 
tell the exact truth. When we did wrong, 
we were never allowed to smooth it over 
or try to make things appear better than 
they really were. If there were extenuating 
circumstances they were considered ; but we 
were to tell only the truth, and accept pun- 
ishment or forgiveness, as was adjudged to 
us.” 

“John’s habits of truthfulness are the nat- 
ural result of such training. Mr. Alden says 
if he is careless or forgetful, he acknowledges 
it, and does all he can to make up for it, but 
he never attempts to conceal it.” 

“ I should be ashamed of him if he did. 


372 


Our Homes, 


Perhaps it is no virtue in me to be always 
frank and outspoken. I am too proud to 
win favor under false pretences. And, Mrs. 
Horton, I cannot help having some respect 
for people, however bad they may be, if they 
sail under their own colors.” 

“ If people would do that, there would be 
fewer disappointed hopes and broken hearts. 
People would grow better too. They would 
fear to flaunt their wickedness and grossness 
in the eyes of the community, and if obliged 
to show their colors, they would, of neces- 
sity, adopt such as would win for them a cer- 
tain amount of respect.” 

“ Under such ruling, a great many men 
and women would remain unmarried, Mrs. 
Horton. I believe half the girls I have known, 
who are married, have found their husbands 
to be very different men from what their 
lovers seemed to be.” 

“ That may be true, Bessie, and it is only 


Pre-eminent Work. 


373 


fair to say, that the deception is not all on 
one side. It would seem that truthfulness, 
at least, should be regarded in transactions 
which are lasting as eternity, but I fear that 
in many instances it is not. Young people 
marry, without realizing that their happiness 
depends upon each other as they really are ; 
not as they appear to be when dressed in 
th'eir best, and wearing their company man- 
ners. A man who will bow most deferen- 
tially to a lady with whom he is onl)?^ on 
speaking terms, will treat his wife with down- 
right rudeness; while a woman who will 
smile sweetly on a mere acquaintance will 
meet her husband with frowns.’' 

Good management and good nature are 
both needed in homes, aren’t they, Mrs. Hor- 
ton ?” 

“Yes, dear, and if you are ever the mis- 
tress -of a home, I trust there will be an 
abundance of these requisites to happiness.” 


374 


Our Homes. 


“ There must be ; but before that, there 
must be one man who is good, better, best, 
or I shall never dare trust myself with him. 
I am willing to work and economize, living 
simply and dressing cheaply ; but I never 
can spend my time trying to keep a man 
good. With God’s help, he must do that for 
himself If I am to do such missionary work 
as that, I prefer to do it outside of my home. 
How could Miss Blaine give up every thing, 
as she did, to the man she thought her hus- 
band?” 

‘Tt was very hard, and all the harder, be- 
cause she had brought it upon herself She 
had been easily duped. A very limited 
knowledge of the world would have shown 
her that the man was an impostor.” 

“ But why did he wish to marry her ? She 
was not rich.” 

“ No, but she admired him, and that flat- 
tered his vanity. She could earn money, 


Pre-eminent Work, 


375 


and such men always want wives who will 
provide homes for them. They are not 
willing to rough it, depending upon them- 
selves for whatever of comfort they have. 
He was one of the worst type of men ; 
coarse, brutal, and supremely selfish ; yet 
demanding the utter self abnegation of the 
woman he called wife. I think, however, 
that Miss Blaine blames herself more, and 
him less, as time goes on. She is growing 
a more humble Christian.” 

She grows more considerate for others ; 
and, Mrs. Horton, have you observed how 
the expression of her face, and almost the 
features, have changed ?” 

'‘Yes, I have, and to my eyes she is 
growing younger. I told her so the last 
time she was here, and she said she wished 
she could be a child again.” 

Vain wish. There is no going back to 
childhood, with its forgetfulness of the past 


376 


Our Homes. 


and carelessness for the future. The respon- 
sibilities of life cannot be thrown down when 
human hearts grow weary. Yet, with God’s 
blessing, there may come even to those who 
have borne the burden and heat of noonday 
such gladness as childhood can never know ; 
compensating for the sternest discipline, and 
finding expression in loving sympathy for all 
who sin and suffer. 



XXL 


WELCOME HOME. 

HERE was a flutter of excitement 
in fashionable circles. A most un- 
expected event had occurred. The 
Harrimans were no longer poor, and now 
everybody remembered what a delightful 
family they were. 

A man who had formerly been Mr. Harri- 
man’s confidential clerk sent them a large 
sum of money, of which he confessed that he 
had defrauded his employer. There were 
fabulous stories in regard to the amount 
thus received, and before this had ceased to 
be the topic of conversation, a relative died, 
leaving them a small fortune. 

'' I am so glad,” said one and another, yet 



378 


Our Homes, 


of these there were many who found it diffi- 
cult to offer their congratulations. 

Those with whom Mrs. Harriman and her 
daughters had lost caste because of their 
poverty regretted that ‘‘circumstances had 
interrupted a friendship so highly prized.’^ 
No one was quite sure of a position justly 
forfeited, yet much apparent cordiality was 
manifested, with the hope that past neglect 
might be forgotten. 

Cornie Harriman was queenly as ever, 
working on because it pleased her to do 
so, until her engagements were fulfilled. 
A week after the announcement of her 
change of fortune, she presented herself at 
Mrs. Clayborne Thaxter’s, according to 
promise. 

“ I knew it was not necessary for you to 
earn money, and therefore I did not expect 
you to do my dressmaking,” said the lady, 
after she had explicity stated her business. 


Welcome Home, 


379 


“ I supposed you had come for a friendly 
call.” 

“ I hope my call is not ^;^friendly, but I 
came because I promised to do so, and I am 
ready to begin your work at once,” was re- 
plied. ‘‘ Unless you choose that some one 
else should do it, I should be glad of the op- 
portunity to redeem my promise.” 

“ I do not choose that any one else should 
do it, and I should be very grateful for your 
advice at least. But of course you will not 
go out sewing now that it is not neces- 
sary.” 

“ Probably not, but let us not waste time 
in discussing that question, Mrs. Thaxter. 
If I am to advise you, I must know what is 
expected of me.” 

The point was waived, and soon both were 
considering style, fashion, and desirable ma- 
terials. 

Cornie Harriman in the house, and tak- 


380 


Our Homes, 


ing her dinner alone instead of with us !” ex- 
claimed Mr. Thaxter, who had learned in 
some way of her presence. “ Why, people 
think they are nearly as wealthy as ever, 
and Cornie was always a splendid girl. She 
sewing for you ! I don’t understand it, but 
at any rate she must be invited to my 
table.” 

“ I have invited and urged her to come, 
but she has declined peremptorily. It would 
only annoy her if more should be said.” 

“ I have no wish to annoy her, but I 
should like to see her where she belongs. I 
never could see any sense in setting people 
down because their money had taken wings ; 
especially when they were not to blame for 
it. Women do that much more than men. 
They are authority in all such matters ; and 
when Brunell offered himself to Cornie Har- 
riman, as everybody knows that he did, there 
were some who thought he was doing a 


Welcome Home. 


381 


most magnanimous thing, because she was 
only a poor sewing girl, while he was rich.” 

I know some thought so, and wondered 
that she did not appreciate his magnanimity.” 

“ She did appreciate it, and herself too, 
which is more than many would have done 
in her situation. Some people conveniently 
forgot their acquaintance with your mother, 
whose memories have been quickened during 
the last year, and my word for it, there will 
be plenty to do your family honor as the tide 
of prosperity sets in their favor. I don’t 
know how I could exist without money, but 
I am not so senseless as to rate it above 
everything else. Ups and downs are the 
order of the world.” 

“ There are always changes transpiring, 
and I am certainly rejoiced that the Harri- 
mans are to take their place again in 
society.” 

I can see no reason why they should 


382 


Our Homes. 


ever have left it. They could not spend 
time' and money for party dresses, and of 
course they could not be at the expense of 
entertaining company, but they might have 
been treated with simple courtesy. They are 
no better than they were five years ago, 
when people thought they were performing 
a charitable deed by hiring Cornie Harriman 
to work for them.” 

They are no better, but they are differ- 
ently situated.” 

“ I understand the difference, and you 
may trust them for understanding it too. I 
don’t propose to interfere with your dress- 
making, but I would suggest that you rec- 
ognize the fact that Cornie Harriman is a 
lady, and find some one else to sew for 
you.” 

“ I wished to find some one else to do it, 
but she insisted upon staying, and I was 
glad to have her advice, if nothing more. 


Welcome Home^ 


38J 


She was never like other girls, and in that 
respect she has not changed. She was al- 
ways well dressed, always self-possessed, 
and always ready, when called upon, to ex- 
press her opinions frankly and independ- 
ently.’' 

“ She must be something like Emma, or 
Emma like her. They ought to be good 
friends.” 

‘‘They are good friends.” 

“ I am glad they are. There are some 
things for me to be glad of yet, if I am such 
a bad lot. I am glad Max is such a splen- 
did little fellow, and I hope he will grow up 
to be one of the best men in the country. 
Now, as a favor to me, I ask you to dismiss 
your dress-maker. There is Emma’s step in 
the hall. I should know it among a hundred. 
She can manage the business for you, and 
the next time Cornie Harriman comes here, 
let her come as a guest.” 


3^4 


Our Homes, 


Emma Maxon heard this last remark, and 
having received instructions, hastened to her 
friend, who was at last persuaded to accede 
to her request. 

“ You can afford to be magnanimous,'’ she 
said smilingly. “ People will do things for 
which they are liable to be very sorry, and 
for which they deserve punishment ; but it is 
noble and generous to forgive them. Poor 
Garrie has made many mistakes.” ! 

“ I did not think of punishing her in com- 
ing here,” was replied. “ I only thought I 
would finish what I had promised to do, and 
it may be there was a little of foolish pride 
in this resolve. I am quite willing to throw 
up the engagement and leave it for another 
to perform. I have learned some truths 
worth the knowing in the years I have been 
obliged to work for my daily bread. I have 
seen many carefully concealed skeletons, and 
been assured of the existence of many more 


W zlcome Home. 


385 


which I have not seen. If I have lost much, 
I have gained much, and never have I seen 
the person with whom I would exchange 
lots. If Mrs. Thaxter will give me half an 
hour of her time, I will tell her what I think 
in regard to the suits of which we talked 
this morning, and then I will take my de- 
parture.” 

This matter adjusted. Miss Blaine was en- 
gaged to carry out the suggestions made by 
Miss Harriman, and Mrs. Thaxter relieved 
from an awkward position. Her husband, 
too, was gratified, and she was glad to oblige 
him. 

His manner, that day, had impressed her 
as serious and earnest. Certain unfortunate 
transactions had sobered him, and forced him 
to think of the future. He had met with 
heavy losses at the gaming table, which 
losses he could not afford often to repeat. 
He had no wish to change his habits, and he 

25 


386 


Our Homes. 


would probably have resented any interfer- 
ence, but it sometimes seemed strange that 
no one should care how it fared with him. 
His home was home to him only in name. 
He was at the club, the hotel, the billiard 
rooms, or driving with so called friends; 
any where, every where, to kill the time 
which made up the sum total of his exist- 
ence. 

He was on good terms with his wife’s fam- 
ily, especially with the younger members ; 
more than once commending her brothers for 
their industry and regular habits. Mr. and 
Mrs. Maxon treated him with invariable cour- 
tesy, yet they seldom visited at his house ; 
preferring to see him in their own home : the 
very same to which they had gone when over- 
taken by misfortune. 

“Do you intend to remain here?” asked, 
Mrs. Thaxter, while spending a lovely sum- 
mer day with her mother and sisters. 


Welcome Home, 387 

“We have no plans for going elsewhere,” 
was replied. 

“ But the house is so small and so out of 
the way, I should think you would prefer 
going back to the city.” 

“We don’t mind it’s being out of the way, 
and if we did, we should not need to move. 
People are constantly coming this way. Ten 
new houses are in process of building within 
sight of us.” 

“ I have noticed them, and some of the 
houses are to be very elegant. They will 
put your cottage quite in the shade.” 

“ That will not trouble us, so long as we 
have the shade of our grand old trees. If 
we wish to enlarge our borders, we can. easily 
do so by building an addition to our cot- 
tage.” / 

“ Is the cottage yours, or aunt Jane’s ?” 

“ It is your aunt Jane’s, but your father 
will probably purchase it. We have been so 


388 


Our Homes. 


happy here, we shall never be willing to leave 
it permanently. It will be lonely without 
Emma, but we shall keep her with us as long 
as we can.” 

“ I did not know she thought of leaving 
you.” 

“ We expect she will leave us. Has no 
one told you that she is engaged to Elden 
Cummings ?” 

‘‘No one has told me that, mother. I 
have been asked if it was not so, and Clay- 
borne has always said they would marry, but 
Emma has not made a confidante of me.” 

“The engagement is very recent, although 
I have known for a long time that there was 
a strong attachment between them. We 
shall miss her, but we could not ask more or 
better for her than that she should be Elden 
Cummings wife.” 

“But I hardly see how you can manage 
without her, mother. What will you do ?” 


Welcome Home, 389 

asked Mrs. Thaxter, with a flush upon her 
usually pale face. 

“The best I can, Garrie. Children will 
grow up and start in life for themselves, and 
it is right that it should be so. They must 
choose for themselves, too, and that is right, 
hard as it may sometimes seem to their 
parents.” 

“It troubles me to think that my boy will 
grow up,” said the daughter, glad to call at- 
tention to some subject in which Elden Cum- 
mings had no part. “I wish I could keep 
Max as he is now all my life.” 

“Don’t wish that, Garrie. Don’t allow 
yourself to feel towards him in that way. He 
must fill his place in the world. You cannot 
tell what that will be, but you can teach him 
what he will need to know. You can impress 
him with a sense of his accountability and re- 
sponsibility. Mothers do not realize their 
duty to their children. I intended to bring 


390 


Our Homes. 


up my children well, but I know now that 
I made a great mistake. If I should live my 
life over, I should do very different from what 
I have done.” 

“I suppose every one feels like that, 
mother, and if we had done differently, we 
might still wish the very same. It is a thank- 
less task, to spend our time in regretting the 
past.” 

“I know it is, dear, except as we learn 
from our regrets to do better in the future. 
Now you will please excuse me. Emma is 
giving our young kitchen girl some lessons in 
cooking, and it is time I relieved her.” 

“Don’t mind me, mother. I am glad to be 
left to myself sometimes, and I always rest 
when I come here. I know Max is safe with 
Tot. It is absurd to call that child Tot, now 
she is so large, but I never remember that 
her name is Grace.” 

Not long after, Emma Maxon came into 


Welcome Home, 


391 


the room, when her sister said graciously: 

“I suppose I am to congratulate you upon 
your engagement.” 

“You may if you please,” was replied with 
a smile and a blush. 

“I please, my good sister, and I hope you 
will be as happy as you deserve to be. Clay- 
borne has predicted your fate for a long time, 
so he will not be surprised.” 

“He must have predicted it longer than I 
have known it, for I am not yet used to the 
thought tha't I am really engaged.” 

“One soon gets used to most things, pleas- 
ant or unpleasant.” 

“That may be, but I never get so used to 
pleasant things, that I am not glad and thank- 
ful for them. They are a constant joy to 
me.” 

“What of the unpleasant ?” 

“I set to work to remedy them.” 

“But if you cannot remedy them?” 


392 


Our Hornes^ 


“Cover them up, and pray God to remove 
them.” 

“But if they cannot be removed.” 

“I would pray God for grace and patience 
to bear them.” 

“You would pray, Emma?” 

“Yes, Garrie, I would, and pray earnestly 
too. I think we are all beginning to pray 
here, and, Garrie, I wish you would pray 
too.” 

“I know nothing about it,” said the elder 
sister coldly. “I attend church when conve- 
nient, and that suffices for me.” 

“But there is Max, Garrie. I know you 
love him, and it would be such a comfort to 
you if you could pray for him. I wish you 
could hear aunt Jane pray.” 

“Aunt Jane again! She must be the 
paragon of all perfection to you.” 

“ Oh, no, Garrie, but she is a generous, 
sensible Christian woman, who does with her 


Welcome Home. 


393 


might what she finds to do. She is not 
elegant or brilliant, and I suppose many 
people would think her deficient in grace of 
manner, but she is a friend to rely upon in 
time of trouble. Elden thinks she is a re- 
markable woman, and she approves of him, 
so they are sure to be good friends.” 

Always Elden. Before the day was over, 
Mrs. Thaxter heard his opinions quoted, until 
she was impatient at the very sound of his 
name. It was like a reproach, or a reminder 
of happiness which might have been hers, 
but from which she was now forever debarred. 

Her husband drove out to tea, and with 
him came Elden Cummings, whom he intro- 
duced as his brother-in-law elect, and whom 
he professed to admire for sterling qualities of 
head and heart. 

It was well that Tot and Max claimed 
attention, so covering the embarrassment 
caused by his somewhat boisterous manners. 


394 


Our Homes. 


Everything was made to pass pleasantly, 
although Mrs. Thaxter was not sorry when 
the hour arrived for her to leave. 

But for the boy she held close to her heart, 
life would have seemed utterly desolate ; yet 
beside her was her husband, the man she had, 
of her own free will, promised to love and 
cherish, until death should them part. 



XXIL 


LITTLE BY LITTLE. 

E AD and buried in a nameless grave ; 
with his latest breath giving direc- 
tions where a letter might be found, 
which he begged the woman who had be- 
friended him, to mail as soon as he was gone. 

He had gone down so low,^that he was 
glad to escape from the watch and care of 
his relatives. His wife had died, and his 
children were only too willing to remain in 
ignorance of his abiding place. He had 
proved recreant to all family obligations and 
outraged the kindness of many friends; but 
as his strength failed, he thought most of the 
good, true man whose confidence he had be- 



39 ^ 


Our Homes, 


trayed and whose property he had squan- 
dered. 

Half resolved to confess this and implore 
forgiveness before he died, he had yet de- 
layed; although a letter had been written, 
properly directed, and carefully preserved. 

This letter Mr. Horton received and read; 
wishing, as he did so, that the whole matter 
of his failure had remained shrouded in mys- 
tery, rather than be assured of so much base- 
ness where he had so much trusted. 

“If another had told me, I would not have 
believed it,” he said, as he refolded the closely 
written sheet. “Let us never mention it, 
wife. It is between him and God, and it 
was permitted for some wise purpose, and 
we were not beggared by it. I have no fears 
that we shall ever suffer for want of the com- 
forts of life.” 

“Never, husband. I long ago ceased to 
mourn our loss. We have a home, and old 


Little by Little. 


397 


age comes slowly to us, because we are so 
much interested in younger people. We are 
living more with the young than with the 
old.” 

“Yes, wife, and you make friends who ac- 
cept me because I belong to you. Even 
Mary Battis is learning to tolerate me.” 

“ Dear girl. There are not many like 
her.” 

True. Not many young girls could do 
what she was doing, collecting the rent for the 
entire house in which she lived. One room 
she had set apart and furnished for herself. 
Scantily furnished indeed, but it was enough 
for her. Here she worked, read, and received 
company. On the table was her rent book, 
in which she kept an accurate account of all 
money due and all money received. The 
landlord called here, a certain day of each 
month, always complimenting her upon her 
prompt and business like manners. 


398 


Our Homes, 


Miss Downing, who had made her ac- 
quaintance, sometimes came to talk with her 
for an hour and give her some assistance in 
her general work. 

“I am trying to study,” she said on one 
occasion. “I know so little, I am often 
ashamed of my ignorance. Mr. Horton show- 
ed me how to keep my book, and I felt 
proud when he told me that was all right ; 
but thece are a great many other things I 
need to learn.” 

“Perhaps I can help you about learning 
them,” replied Miss Downing. “I shall be 
very glad if I can ; for I have been so much 
helped myself, that I wish to repay the debt 
by helping others.” 

“Why, I thought you could do everything 
for yourself, you know so much.” 

“No one can stand quite alone in this 
world, Mary. I used to think I was an excep- 
tion to the rule, but I learned my mistake 


Little by Little, 


399 


through bitter experience. With your work, 
you cannot attempt many lessons, but you 
can learn a little every day ; and at the end 
of a year, you will be surprised at the 
amount of knowledge you have gained. You 
have heard Mr. Arms talk ?” 

“Yes, Miss Downing, I have; and isn’t he 
grand ?” 

“Grand as the grandest, and yet he gained 
his knowledge, little by little, while doing 
hard work.” 

“Then he didn’t waste time, as so many 
men do. If he had he couldn’t have learned 
much. It makes me sorry when I see how 
the poor boys do who live on this street. 
They grow wickeder just as fast as they 
grow older. But somebody says that all the 
boys who work for Mr. Arms grow better. 
I wish he could be everywhere.” 

It sometimes seemed necessary that he 
should be in several places at one and the 


400 


Our Homes, 


same time, yet his duties were so systema- 
tized, that they did not often conflict with 
each other. 

The mill was completed, the machinery in 
position, and houses had been erected for 
the accommodation of a largely increased 
number of workmen. All had been done to 
the acceptance of those financially interested, 
and no one doubted that the outlay would 
pay a handsome profit. 

“It was only a hamlet when we came here, 
but it is getting to be a large place, and 
likely to be larger,” remarked Mr. Arms, 
senior. 

“Yes, father, you have seen it grow up,” 
was responded. 

“And you, my son, have grown up with 
it.” 

“Yes, sir, and I have tried to keep full 
abreast with it. Now, when we have a 
handsome church, we shall deserve to be 


Little by Little, 


401 


considered a thriving community. The 
chapel, even with the addition, is getting too 
straight for us. I find there is an element 
among us inclined to resist our Sunday rules, 
but I think we shall be able to control it. 
When I cannot have an orderly Sabbath and 
temperate workmen, it will be time for me 
to resign my office.” 

“ You have no fears of that, Wilton ?” 

“No, father, I have not, but I know I can- 
not sleep at my post. There must be constant 
warfare, and constant watchfulness. I can 
count on many good soldiers, but we need 
even more. I think I know where the 
enemy is likely to make an attack. Beer 
and whiskey saloons are coming nearer to 
us.” 

“Can you hold them back, my son?” 

“That is what I intend to do. I have 
succeeded so far, and I am in no mood to 

beat a retreat.” 

26 


402 


Our Homes. 


'‘You are a hopeful man, Wilton.’' 

“Yes, father, and a happy man too.” 

“You should be. Your wife is one of the 
best, and your boy is a chip of the old block, 
as people used to say about you.” 

“I am glad you think so, father, and there 
come my household treasures. I told Belle 
I should call on you this evening, and she is 
coming to call with me.” 

“She is a lady, Wilton; different from 
what your mother was at her age, but she is 
never any better. You can trust her, and I 
could trust your mother. She can trust you 
too, as your mother could trust me, and there 
can be no real home, where there is lack of 
trust. Ha! The boy sees grandpa and 
gives mother the slip.” 

The old man caught the child in his arms, 
ard presently they all entered the cottage, 
where supper was waiting, and where there 


Little by Little. 403 

was always room at the table for the oldest 
son and his family. 

His wife was always welcome there with 
her pleasant face and sunny smiles. No one 
addressed father and mother with more of 
loving respect, and no sister was dearer than 
she who had spent her girlhood in a home of 
wealth and luxury. That she was judged 
worthy to be Wilton’s wife, quite satisfied her 
ambition. 

The people who had talked of her marry- 
ing beneath her station had nearly forgotten 
this adverse criticism ; while some of them efi- 
vied her the happiness which knew neither 
doubt nor fear. Wherever she went with 
her husband, she was sure to receive attention 
which might have flattered a prouder woman. 
Her friends found Armsville a delightful 
place, and her father had been materially 
aided by his son-in-law, upon whose judg- 
ment he relied. 


404 


Our Homes, 


Mrs. Arms was doing good work in her 
appointed place. She had brought a new in- 
fluence into the community of which she was 
a member : a refinement of manner and del- 
icacy of feeling to which those about her 
were quite unused. She did not choose un- 
educated men and women as intimate asso- 
ciates, yet she met them without the conde- 
scension which so often embitters social in- 
tercourse. 

Her house was more spacious and more 
handsomely furnished than her neighbors ; 
blit the same regard to neatness, order, and 
good taste, would make other houses equally 
attractive. 

A class of young ladies, under her instruc- 
tion in the Sunday School, were learning of 
her other lessons than those taught on the 
Sabbath. She noticed and encouraged any 
special talent ; thus being often surprised at 
gifts not before recognized ; until she came 


Little by Little. 


405 


to believe that every member of her class 
was the possessor of some marked ability 
worthy of development. 

“You get so near to them, that you find 
all of good there is in them,'’ replied her hus- 
band, when she told him of this belief “ I 
did not expect it of you,” he added with a 
caress sweeter than any words of commenda- 
tion he could have spoken. 

“ What did you expect of me ?” she asked. 

“ I expected you would be my dear, good 
wife, if I could ever win you, and I knew you 
would do all your duty ; but I never expected 
you to go among our people as you do. My 
mother has always done that, but you. are 
different. I love and honor my mother. Belle, 
but I understand fully the difference there is 
between you. She would not mind going 
where it might be very disagreeable for you 
to go.” 

“ I seldom find things disagreeable, Wilton. 


4o6 


Our Homes. 


Religion has a wonderfully refining influence, 
and religion is the rule here. Since Mrs. 
Beech became a Christian, there has been a 
marked change in her home. She told me 
she used to think that only rich people could 
have nice things, although her son was al- 
ways telling her that she was mistaken. The 
girls do most of the housekeeping now, and 
as they grow older, they will do better. Mrs. 
Beech prefers her mill work.” 

“ It is well that she does. I don’t know 
where we could find a woman to take her 
place, and such work commands good wages. 
John has tried hard to make a home for the 
family, and at first he had not much help, 
but Warren is doing his part now. They are 
saving money, hoping to have a house of 
their own, and I have no doubt they will ac- 
complish it. They have enough to pay one- 
half the price of a desirable lot now for sale, 
and I have thought of securing it for them.” 


Little by Little. 


407 


“I wish you would do so, Wilton. It 
would give them great pleasure, and inspire 
them with new energy.” 

“I will do so,” said the gentleman, and the 
next day he held a deed of the lot in ques- 
tion. 

Not long after this Frale Darrah had a va- 
cation from school, when he was invited with 
his brother John, to spend three days with 
John Beech, who had fairly earned a rest, 
and who was not ashamed to invite company 
to his home. 

John Darrah was a prosperous young 
man, and Frale, now a large boy, was a fine 
scholar; but they did not forget the time 
when they were younger and poorer. This 
visit had been long anticipated, and a room 
prepared expressly for this occasion. 

'T put you in a hogshead to sleep, but you 
have given me a delightful bed-chamber,” 
said the young man to his friend. “Six 


4o8 


Our Homes, 


years have brought great changes to us all, 
but to none more than to you. You are a 
fine looking fellow, and you have made a 
good start in the world. You are following 
in Mr. Arms’ tracks.” 

“I am learning the work as he did, but I 
never expect to be like him. He is one of a 
thousand, and I shall not be one of another 
thousand.” 

“You are not sure of that, John. Think 
of the day I found you behind the wood, and 
contrast that day with this. You have done 
grandly since then.” 

“Think of the day you worked on the 
wood, and contrast that day with this for 
yourself. But you had a home, while I had 
none, and that makes all the difference in the 
world. Heaven will never look brighter to 
me than your kitchen did, the first morning 
I ate breakfast there. It was my first 
glimpse of a home such as a home should be.” 


Little by Little, 


409 


“You have a good home now.” 

“I don’t complain of it. The girls are 
learning nice ways, and mother cares more 
than she used to. We have saved something 
towards buying a lot of land for a house of 
our own, and Mr. Arms has bought it, him- 
self, so to keep it for us. We should have 
saved more, but I was determined the chil- 
dren should have a chance to learn, and do 
different from what I did. Warren is a 
good deal smarter than I am, and he is a 
good scholar. He needs looking after pretty 
close; but he is all right so far, and Mrs. 
Arms has got him in tow, as people say 
here.” 

“She will bring him through safe. You 
need have no fears for him.” 

“O John, isn’t ^ she splendid! There isn’t 
anybody here but would do anything for her. 
She has us all to spend an evening at her 
house, now and then, and that puts us on 


410 


Our Homes, 


our good behavior the year ’round. Then 
there is Mrs. Holston. You must see her. 
She is not a bit like Mrs. Arms, but she is 
very nice. She has just moved into a new 
house, and it is all covered with vines so 
soon. I am so glad you came out here. I 
was almost afraid you wouldn’t.” 

“ I was sure to come if I could leave the 
store, and Frale said he was crazy to get 
here. I charged him not to go to Mrs. Arms 
until after breakfast.” 

A pleasant voice soon called them, and 
they sat down, to a breakfast which might 
have tempted an epicure. Mr. Alden’s clerk 
had no reason to feel that he was conferring 
a favor upon his old time friend. On the 
contrary, when his visit was at an end, he 
felt that a great favor had been conferred 
upon him. 

Mr. Arms had long known him as the 
donor of a dime which John Beech still pre- 


Little by Little. 


411 

served as a memento of the morning when a 
poor ragged boy had started out in search of 
better fortune. The two had worked together 
for the salvation of this boy. 

“ But I worked ignorantly, while you un- 
derstood what you were doing ; and besides, 
my gift was only a loan, soon repaid,” said 
John Darrah in reply to the remark that he 
had been a co-laborer with the gentleman be- 
fore him. 

“ All I have done was only a loan, for 
which I have been a thousand times repaid,” 
was responded. “ Good conduct and good 
will are sufficient recompense for me, wher- 
ever I have given a helping hand. Perhaps 
you put John’s dime at interest.” 

“ Not in a regular business way, Mr. Arms. 

I gave it to another poor boy, and after a 
time he repaid me ; not the same dime but 
another. For the last two years, I have 
kept a small box of dimes for such giving. 


412 


Our Homes. 


Sometimes they are returned, and sometimes 
they are not. A dime is not much, but I 
remember when it seemed to me a large sum 
of money. I should be sorry to have my 
brother subjected to the same discipline I 
was called to bear, but he will miss some- 
thing from his experience which is worth to 
me all it cost.” 

“ ‘It is good for a man that he bear the 
yoke in his youth.’ We all need the disci- 
pline of hard work and close application, and 
we all need to learn the value of money by 
being obliged to earn it. That is where a 
poor boy has the advantage of his rich 
neighbor.” 


XXIII. 


GAINING GROUND. 

HE last dollar of my indebtedness is 
paid, and I am invited to visit the 
old people who have received so 
large a share of my earnings. I thought I 
never wished to see them, but they have 
written me so kindly, I feel a strange long- 
ing to look once more upon familiar scenes.” 

This was Miss Downing’s joyous an- 
nouncement as she entered Mrs. Darrah’s 
pleasant sitting room. 

“I hope you will go,” was replied. “A 
change must be pleasant for you, and then, 
if you are like other people, you will not be 
sorry to let your old acquaintances see what 
you have done for yourself” 

“I am quite like other people in that re- 



414 


Otir Homes. 


spect, although I do not now blame my rel- 
atives for being tired of us. I presume my 
brother troubled them more than I knew. 
People are sometimes very burdensome to 
each other. I know that by experience, but 
no one burdens me now. Every one helps 
me. I can earn so much money, I feel really 
rich. Mr. Alden is such a good friend, and 
his wife is as kind as he is. It is worth a 
great deal to me, too, to be admitted to such 
a home as theirs.” 

“Miss Downing, I wish you were not so 
much alone. It always seemed to me that 
every real home must contain at least two 
people!' 

“A wrong impression, Mrs. Darrah, an en- 
tirely wrong impression. The fact that a 
woman is alone is no reason why she should 
not make herself thoroughly comfortable in 
some place where she has a right to be and 
do as she pleases.” 


Gaining Ground. 


415 


“I know that, Miss Downing, but I could 
never make myself comfortable alone.” 

“All women are not alike, any more than 
all men ; but the woman who can pay the 
rent of a room, purchase and cook her food, 
and also act as her own laundress, need not 
feel that she is in anybody’s way, or indebted 
to others for favors grudgingly given. If 
she is not bound to husband or children, 
father, mother, brothers or sisters, she, at 
least, has her happiness largely in her own 
hands.” 

“So she has. Miss Downing. I can under- 
stand that, and I know that every tie binding 
some women only makes them wretched; yet 
I wonder that you have remained so long un- 
married. You have an affectionate nature, 
and you must have been an attractive girl.” 

“I am glad I remained unmarried, Mrs. 
Darrah. I cannot tell you more than that, but 
I am glad to be as I am. I sometimes obtain 


4 1 6 Our Homes. 

glimpses of a home which make me feel that 
the inmates are living very near heaven; yet 
I have seen others so full of wretchedness, 
I was thankful for being alone. The Lord 
has been very good to me in all my way. I 
must ask Mr. Alden for a holiday. Sallie 
Harriman can write his letters while I am 
away, and I think no one of the family will 
object, even if she is not obliged to earn her 
own support.’' 

“Why should they object ? Knowledge is 
of no value unless it can be made of use.” 

“Knowledge can never be without use, 
Mrs. Darrah. Much that I learned in my 
school days waited long to prove itself of 
practical value. Then John discovered it, 
and I have been gaining ground ever since.” 

Most of those we have seen in their homes 
had been steadily gaining ground. Amy 
and Bessie Darrah were associated with Miss 
Blaine in a very much larger establishment 


Gaining Ground. 417 

than that of which Madame Renau had been 
sole proprietor. A more commodious build- 
ing had been rented, and furnished with 
every appliance for accomplishing desirable 
work in the shortest possible time. 

No man was employed in any capacity, 
from kitchen to salesroom; the entire labor 
being performed by women. The salesroom, 
proposed by Bessie Darrah, had become im- 
mensely popular, with its choice variety of 
fancy wares sold at reasonable prices. It 
was profitable, also, so that the firm was 
likely to become wealthy as well as prosper- 
ous. 

Some who had thought of Miss Blaine and 
the Misses Darrah as not “in society,” 
questioned why the transaction of an honor- 
able business should count against a woman 
more than against her brother; and as to 
this question they could make no reasonable 
reply. The ladies began to be regarded 
27 


4i8 


Our Homes, 


with favor in social, as well as financial cir- 
cles. 

At this no one rejoiced more than did Mr. 
and Mrs. Horton, who retained their interest 
in all which pertained to their many friends, 
whether richer or poorer; those whom they 
had seen, and those whom they had not seen. 
They knew as well as did Miss Blaine her- 
self, how it fared with each member of the 
Tubbs’ family. She had asked their advice 
in regard to the assistance to be given to 
Madge and her children, and she had strictly 
followed their counsel. 

“Help them to help themselves, and then 
leave them to their own resources,” Mr. Hor- 
ton had said, before she had made them her 
first visit, and she had never deviated from 
this rule. 

They had needed the assistance she gave 
them, yet quite as much had they needed the 
discipline of hard work and careful manage- 


Gaining Ground, 


419 


ment. The place Herbert had rented be- 
came his own by purchase. The house was 
repaired, and the grounds set with trees, the 
fruit of which would soon yield a consider- 
able income. 

In her yearly visits Miss Blaine no longer 
boarded at the hotel, but was a guest in the 
house of her friends whose intelligence kept 
pace with their prosperity. As Herbert 
Tubbs faithfully performed all work entrust- 
ed to him, his ability and energy were recog- 
nized more and more. 

“I expect a great deal of you,” said Miss 
Blaine, as they were standing together under 
the old apple tree. 

“ I hope I shall not disappoint you,” was 
replied. 'T would rather disappoint any other 
person in the world except my old woman. 
You have been the best friend I ever had ex- 
cept her. She taught me my accountability 
to God.” 


420 


Our Homes. 


“Is. she living?” 

“Yes ma’a'm, and I am doing what I can 
to repay her kindness. She is very poor, 
and I do something towards her support; but 
it is not much for me to do. She helped my 
soul, while I only help her body.” 

“You do more than that. You make her 
feel that somebody cares for her.” 

“And that helps. I know it does. But 
there is always God who cares for us, no 
matter if all the world is against us. That 
must be what helps people to work on in the 
face of all discouragement; and sometimes 
when they don’t know it, or don’t think of it. 
It is such a grand thing. Miss Blaine, to know 
that God cares for me, and to feel it through 
every part of my being, thrilling and inspir- 
ing me to do the very best I can.” 

“And you feel it, Herbert?” 

“I do. I remember, too, the first time I 
ever felt it. I was only ten years old. We 


Gaining Ground, 


421 


were poor, and I had worked so hard, I could 
not keep awake long after I went to bed; but 
J fell asleep thinking of all the wrong things 
I had done and wondering if God would ever 
forgive me. The next morning when I 
opened my eyes the trouble was all gone, 
and I was ready for anything.” 

“And have you felt so happy ever since?” 

“Sometimes the way has looked dark, but 
the minute I could realize that God cared for 
us, I could go on.” 

“And you are going on in His strength?” 

“I am. His strength is sufficient for me.” 

Blessed is the man or woman who can say 
this with like faith. No sorrow can be with- 
out some alleviation; no misfortune can be 
utterly overwhelming. Earthly interests are 
of small value compared with those of eter- 
nity. The externals of life count for little be- 
side the secret springs of happiness or misery 
hidden in the very depths of the heart. 


422 


Our Homes* 


It does not matter that the house be small 
and the clothing plain ; but it does matter that 
the dwellers in the house should live so that 
God will approve them. It does matter that 
husbands and wives, brothers and sisters 
should dwell together in love and mutual 
helpfulness. It does matter that no corrupt- 
ing influences are allowed to enter our homes, 
and that no false hearts throb beneath either 
fustian or velvet. 

Adah Edmonds had asserted these truths, 
more strongly perhaps in deeds than in 
words, when she accepted Henry Ordway as 
her husband, and conformed her style of liv- 
ing to his circumstances. She had never re- 
gretted this ; surely, least of all, when baby 
voices were heard in her home, and she felt 
the responsibility of other lives pressing up- 
on her. 

Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, and Mr. and Mrs. 
Alden. were her neighbors; charming people 


Gaining Ground. 


423 


all; and when Mr. and Mrs. Elden Cummings 
were added to the circle, there was little 
danger that they would feel shut out from 
society. New houses were erected on the 
street, and in time Mrs. Harriman decided 
upon a residence there. 

Handsome carriages stopped before these 
houses. Some of the most exclusive ladies 
of the city made calls here with all due cer- 
emony. Mrs. Clayborne Thaxter told her 
sister that it rested her just to drive down 
the street. 

“ Then drive here often,” was replied. 

“ I do,” she said. “ I come here so often, 
that I neglect my friends elsewhere. I can 
take my children with me here, and I hardly 
care to go where they cannot go with me.” 

“They are never a trouble to you ?” 

“ Never. Yet I wonder they are not. I 
used to think of children as being a very 
great trouble. I was very selfish when I was 


424 


Otir Homes. 


in father’s house. If I could go back, I 
should do very differently. But I must not 
allow myself to think of that. I must do 
what I can for my children. You have a 
pleasant home, Emma.” 

'‘It is all I desire, and I am happy in it, 
Garrie. I wish you were as happy as I am, 
and if ever Elden or I can be of any service 
to you, be sure you come to us. You can 
depend upon us for all we can do.” 

“ Thank you. None of us know what 
service we may require ; but at present I need 
no assistance.” 

This was said so decidedly that the sister 
did not presume to say more, yet she knew 
that her brother-in-law was bringing ruin 
upon his family which could not long be 
borne in silence. 

Pride sealed the lips of his wife ; yet but 
for her children, she would have exiled her- 
self from all home ties, rather than live on as 


Gaining Ground. 425 

she was compelled to do. The very presence 
of her husband was offensive to her. His 
maudlin words were like the hiss of a serpent 
in her ear. 

At length she observed a change in his 
appearance, and looking back, she could see 
that this change had been gradual. She 
remembered that her father had inquired 
particularly in regard to his health, and that 
on several occasions Emma had seemed to 
watch him with anxious solicitude. 

She summoned the family physician, and 
when told that her husband was suffering 
from a disease affecting his brain, she needed 
to hear no more. She knew all which was 
implied, and she knew, also, that in this emer- 
gency she could not depend upon herself 

She would not appeal to her husband’s 
relatives. She could not go to her father. 
She must ask assistance of Elden Cummings, 
humiliating as was the necessity. She could 


426 


Our Homes, 


not say to him all she wished him to know, 
but she could write, and this she did ; leaving 
him to do what seemed to him best. 

Mr. Cummings had the confidence of Clay- 
borne Thaxter, who was easily persuaded to 
relinquish the care of his property, and later, 
this transfer of authority was legalized and 
made permanent. 

A handsome estate had been squandered, 
leaving only a few thousands to its original 
possessor. Mrs. Thaxter was secured 
against poverty, but no words can describe 
the mortification and regret which must em- 
bitter every hour of her life, while bound to 
one whose continued existence cannot fail to 
call forth her sympathy. 

What her children will be, time can alone 
reveal. It may be that through them may 
come some recompense for present sorrows, 
or it may be that through them shall come 
her keenest suffering. 


Gaining Ground, 


427 


She has learned by observation that ele- 
gant economy is possible. She has learned, 
also, by sad experience, that elegant dissipa- 
tion is e;;^possible. 















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